


Death Should Not Have Taken Thee!

by Fgoing_Insane, Livitup



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Alan Humphries - Freeform, Alan Humphries x Eric Slingby, Alan Humphries/ Eric Slingby - Freeform, Black Butler - Freeform, Female Pronouns for Grell Sutcliff, Fluff, Grell Sutcliff - Freeform, Grell Sutcliff is a Troll, Grim Reaper - Freeform, Kuroshitsuji - Freeform, Kuroshitsuji II | Black Butler II, Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler - Freeform, Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler References, M/M, Minor William T. Spears/Grell Sutcliff, MxM - Freeform, Othello - Freeform, Other, Ronald Knox - Freeform, Ronald’s a smartass, Rudger - Freeform, Sascha - Freeform, Shinigami, Thorns of Death, Trans Female Grell Sutcliff, Trans Grell Sutcliff, Undertaker, eric slingby - Freeform, rudgar it is, rudger ludger ludgar rudgar, which one is his fucking name
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:40:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 56,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24852469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fgoing_Insane/pseuds/Fgoing_Insane, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Livitup/pseuds/Livitup
Summary: Eric Slingby left Scotland to make a name for himself. He didn’t expect to end up working at a company that’s an odd mix of crime investigation and the consequent handling of deceased victims.He really didn’t expect to befriend a flamboyant redhead with a flair for the dramatics and murder, a smart ass intern who flirts with everything that moves, an uptight manager, said manager’s German doppelgänger, a clumsy photographer, an antisocial pathologist and the creepy company owner.He really really didn’t expect to be plunked in the middle of a gruesome murder mystery with said friends.And he really really really didn’t expect to fall in love with Alan Humphries, the kind, brutally intelligent young man in the office next to his, who may have less time left than anyone thinks.Navigating life is hard, but now Eric has to handle a new country, a new job, new friends, a deadly mystery and his own sexuality. Good thing his life doesn’t depend on it. Hopefully...
Relationships: Alan Humphries & Eric Slingby, Alan Humphries/Eric Slingby, Grell Sutcliff/Undertaker, Ludger/Sascha (Kuroshitsuji), Rudgar/Sascha (Kuroshitsuji), William T. Spears/Grell Sutcliff
Comments: 22
Kudos: 18





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello friends. Behold a poorly thought out story birthed from the darkest parts of my quarantined mind. Here goes nothing, I hope you all enjoy XD
> 
> Mild abuse warning though, stay safe kittens <3

Eric swore as his one wheeled suitcase slammed into his leg yet again. His poor shin was surely already covered in a dozen bruises, his pant leg most likely hiding a new shade of purple from the world.  
The Scotsman yanked the battered thing away from the abused leg, dragging it behind him like the dead weight it was. This was everything he had brought with him from home. Twenty three years ended in a momentary flash of desperation.  
And oh how well that was turning out so far. Eric had really outdone himself this time.

The entire journey to London thus far had been a whirlwind of cursory thoughts and regrets, soon to be replaced by hopeful stirrings and hotheaded pride, only to be swept back to curses and dread.  
He had what others in his family had only briefly thought of. A stable job, a girlfriend, and a fairly clean criminal record save a few bar brawls.  
However as good as the past had been, the benefits were lacking. He was still stuck in his alcohol scented home. Twenty Three and still living with his parents. It wasn’t like he didn’t have the money to get his own place, he did. His old job as a security guard had paid well.  
It was the fact that his family refused to let him leave. 

Every time Eric even brought up the passing thought of leaving, the show would begin. His mother would cry, wailing that her ungrateful son was abandoning his dear old parents. The selfish bastard that he was had been given the world growing up. He had been spoiled, damaged, ruined!  
Before long the wails would turn to demonic incoherent shrieks and Eric would abandon any thoughts of leaving to dash in search of his mother’s essential oils, hoping that their scents were still strong enough to cause the raging harpy inside the frail woman’s body.  
But no matter how much his mother screamed, no matter how loud her shrieks grew, she would never be as bad as his father. Once upon a time the scotch scented man had been a model father in his suburban paradise, with his pretty little wife and five children, but once the child count had been reduced to three out came the liquor and cannabis and out slithered a raging dragon of a man who sought vengeance for the pain he’d been through.  
He had hit Eric the first time when he was eight. It had been a big deal then. He’d been coddled and comforted and promised it would never happen again. However, little Eric had learned that promises don’t last. The fits of rage and their cruel slaps became less and less of a deal. Soon they were common place and Eric learned to steel his nerves every time he saw his father with a bottle.  
Given the rich history it was no surprise that he panicked at the thought of his source of money abandoning ship. In his drunken state he’d gone at Eric with a spoon, the nearest dangerous(?) item.

And then there were his siblings, the ones left anyways. The sister who brought home a new man each night, the brother who tried all kinds of new pills and powders and then sold it. They were the youngest even at the beginning. Little angels the both of them. Naturally Eric had to be the bigger man and work hard so the darlings could live happy lives.  
Every time his mother called them angels Eric thought of them as leeches. It had been a long time since he’d felt any affection towards them. They only saw a walking money source too.  
Grammy was the only one he didn’t blame. The poor woman was too senile to remember where she was half the time. Honestly Eric had stayed that long because of her, plus the crushing guilt left by the others. He did regret not bringing her with him but how could he? One plane ticket was hard enough to wrangle with the shreds of his last paycheck.

A cab splashed through a nasty puddle, soaking Eric’s pants with a miserable splat. Eric squinted at the street sign above him. He needed to find the rental flat and check in before he could do anything else. The suitcase was getting tedious and his leg ached. Plus he was hungry and had to pee, neither of which could be easily done with the brown leather monstrosity.  
As Eric blended into the umbrella covered crowd the suitcase smacked his leg again causing him to stumble to the side. He rammed his shoulder into the building next to him to stop his fall, knocking into a newspaper rack outside.  
The black and white pages screamed warnings of a strange pattern of occult killings (Will you be next?) taking place in downtown London. There was information typed neatly at the bottom of the page imploring readers to contact a tip line if they had any information.

“Well that’s real cheerful.” Eric mumbled, yanking his suitcase as he resumed his trek. If he hadn’t been so worn out he would have snatched a paper and absorbed the gory details. His macabre interest in crime had been what lead to his old security job in the first place.  
In fact, London’s illustrious crime history has been one of the reasons he’d chosen the city in the first place, along with the fact that it was easy to disappear.  
He just hadn’t thought that the traveling would involve this many bruises.

~~~

At long last he arrived at the quaint apartment building. It’s walls were brick, a touch run down but charming all the same. For the price it offered, Eric had been afraid that the place would be some kind of dumpster fire, but the outside looked promising.  
But honestly at this point Eric would have moved in under a bridge if it meant ditching his suitcase.  
In the next fifteen minutes he had limped through the front doors, chatted up the old woman at the front desk, gained his key, swore at the fact that the elevator was out of order, struggled up the stairs to the eighth floor and finally, finally abandoned the suitcase.  
Eric practically waltzed out of the building and down the street in search of food, all thoughts of home and crime temporarily forgotten.

~~~~~~~~~

Once seated in a quaint cafe with a cup steaming coffee at his fingertips, Eric opened up his weathered second hand laptop (a true jewel of Craig’s List) and opened his email. His gaze lingered on the insubstantial spam and promotional emails, pretending they were incredibly demanding of his attention before finally sliding his gaze to the inevitable.  
The angry parental emails were stacked in a neat column of emotional pressure. The subject lines were a variety of emotional strikes aimed at his heart, crippling insults and a cocktail of obscenities.  
The latter might have been funny but Eric was too travel worn and bruised to steel himself once more and dive into the depths of emotion. He thought he could, but at the moment it was getting clear that he couldn’t.  
Eric instead clicked open an email he had already read at least a dozen times. It had been his work acceptance letter from his new job. No matter how many times he drank in the words, they never lost their sweetness. This letter was proof that he wasn’t a complete failure. He’d gotten a new job all on his own. He had paved his own path to his new life, and his job sounded pretty damn cool.

“Dear Mr. Slingby,” the email read, “it is our pleasure to say that we have accepted your application. You seem to be a great fit for our company and we can’t wait to begin working with you! As you completed your interview online, the next step for you will be to arrive for your supervised trial shift to make sure this work is right for you. Arrive in the time slot outlined before and check in at the south entrance at the receptionist desk. We can’t wait to meet you!  
Fondly,  
The Staff of the Crevan Crime and Cadaver Medical Center (CCCMC)”

Was it cheesey? Yes. Generic? Yes. But it was something and Eric was going to take that something and hold onto it tight. This was his fresh start and he was going to drag himself through it no matter what.  
He downed his cooling coffee in one swallow before eyeing the emails from his family once more. With a hefty sigh he deleted them all with smooth keystrokes, a confident looking movement that contrasted the pounding anxious state of his heart.

~~~~~~~~

Eric ended up spending the next few hours at the cafe, enjoying the free WiFi and shoveling four ham and cheese croissants into his stomach.  
Despite his earlier anxiety, Eric had entered a calm almost joyful state. He had been searching the web for the occult killings he had spotted earlier, and the shroud of mystery covering the tragedy was absolutely delicious.  
It wasn’t that he was an aggressive person who adored gore, it was more of the complex inner workings of the crime. Who was doing this? Why? We’re they a copy cat? An original? Was there any leads?  
In his messy world of chaos, the indescribable shadow of the underbelly of crime almost rationalized his life. Somewhere out there somehow was the victim of a brutal crime and Eric was still here, living.  
That thought in particular was the one that drove him on his current path. He wanted to help those people. Clean up the shadows, entrap the fear and pack it away. No one else had to live the life he had.  
The sentiment was as cheesey as the acceptance email, that much was for certain, but Eric still guarded this passion with a ferocity that had almost terrified his ex. Then again he was also over six feet tall with rather impressive muscles (if he did say so himself) and had been told that he was scary when he got worked up over football.  
Eric could have sat there in the warm, cozy cafe for hours, traveling down the rabbit hole of his thoughts, but a tiny gray notation on the news site he had been looking at caught his attention.  
It was added almost as an afterthought, and Eric doubted that many others had noticed. Nonetheless, the text caught his eye all the same.

All information relating to the case at hand should be relayed to the Crevan Crime and Cadaver Medical Center. (CCCMC)

Eric grinned. It seemed that this odd outlier of a case had attracted some specific attention, and he was going to be right in the middle of it.


	2. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi friends! Omg thank you so much for the comments!! I love you all!!
> 
> Anyways here we are with chapter two! Stay safe kittens and enjoy!!

Well. This was apparently it. Eric looked up at the sleek dark building. The glass panes lining it looked like fish scales, despite the structure looking more like a long, winding eel.  
“Well, into the belly of the best then.” Eric muttered, pushing open the door and stepping inside.  
The lobby of the building was vast and slightly chilly. Eric could hear the faint hum of an expensive air conditioner above the low tones of phones ringing and keys clacking.  
The lobby itself was round with a high ceiling. A massive desk with four receptionists sat in the center of the room, the obvious main attraction. The remainder of the space was filled with various decorative potted plants and small statues.  
Elevators lined the rounded wall behind the desk, and elaborate paintings dotted the spaces between them.  
If Eric had to pick a word to describe the building, it would be exquisite. Or shiny. Shiny was a good word too.

Eric took a slow deep breath in before striding over to the desk. Hopefully he could charm these ladies like he had charmed her...  
And just with that single thought, his confidence diminished, and Eric’s strides carried him off to the side where he pretended to be very interested in a painting of a skeleton playing the trumpet.  
Every so often he would glance over at the receptionists, sneaking glances, trying to work up the confidence to start his new life. All he had to do was walk over and ask about his interview.  
So why was it so hard...  
“Hey, the skull bush has a better view.”

Eric bit down on his tongue to stop the unmanly scream that arose from within him. He whirled around, quickly striking what he thought was an inquisitive art pose.  
“Sorry what was that?” Eric said, turning to the stranger that had suddenly appeared beside him.  
“That painting there.” The younger man next to him said, pointing to a macabre painting of a skull shaped bush growing out of, surprise, a skull.  
Instead of looking at the art, Eric quickly studied the stranger. He was shorter than Eric, and a few years younger by the looks of him. He had squarish glasses with mischievous green eyes. His hair was originally a brown mop according to the showing roots, but the majority was a blonde mop that flopped into his eyes as he shifted position.  
“Oh, yeah, it’s...pretty?” Eric said awkwardly. He was unsure of what to make to the skeletal decorations.

“Pretty? It’s downright sexy.” The faux-blonde said. “Really mate I’m telling you, get over there and wait and that beauty will do exactly what you want.  
“What? Does the painting move?” Eric asked, debating sneaking away from this weird stranger.  
“Painting, the hell are you going on about?”  
“What are you talking about?” Eric asked. The two stared at each other for a moment, each thinking the other was insane.  
“The girls! Obviously!” The faux-blonde said. “If you’re trying to get a nice look stand by that painting. When the one on the far right bends over to get more staplers, daaaaamn.” The stranger nodded in appreciation.  
Eric couldn’t help but burst out laughing. Soon both were laughing raucously, the receptionists staring on curiously.  
“You’re new aren’t you. Last I checked none of the freakishly tall creepers around here weren’t Scottish.”  
“You check with them a lot then?” Eric shot back, earning him more laughter. “Yeah I am though. I have an interview. I think. Might’ve missed it.”  
“Hey a real hard worker then. I can appreciate that.” The shorter man nodded as if they were discussing the meaning of life.  
“Yeah? You working here then? You start at noon? That must be nice.”  
To Eric’s surprise the faux-blonde snorted and dissolved into more laughter. “Nah. I start at 8:30 am.”  
Eric stared at him. “And you haven’t been fired for this kind of thing?”  
“Hey they’ll take anyone they can get in this place. They look for something special. But then again I got hired so it could easily be a myth.”  
Eric shook his head, barely containing more laughter. It had been a while since he’d had any straight up casual banter, and it felt good.  
“I’m Eric.” The taller said, offering his hand.  
“Ronald” the shorter said taking his hand and shaking it firmly. And shaking it. And shaking it.  
“Woah there.” Eric said, laughing despite the strangeness.  
“Oh sorry. I’m on my fifth cup of coffee or something. I was up til one trying to get through overtime shit.” Ronald said, taking his hand back.  
“Jesus Christ! Five?”  
“I know. It’s usually seven on a good day. And if I’m having a really good day I forget my meds. ADHD.” Ronald said, answering Eric’s questioning look.  
“So coffee and ADHD.” Eric said grinning. “Really must not be to hard to get hired here at all then.”  
“Watch it you bastard.” Ronald said, playfully hitting Eric in the arm. “I’m like fun personified.”  
Eric had to admit, Ronald reminded him of a puppy with the boundless social energy and the somewhat adorable eyes. It certainly made sense why many of the receptionists were staring. 

An hour later Eric and Ronald had discussed everything from football to cheese. Eric has almost forgotten why he had come. Talking with Ronald felt genuine, and after Eric’s home life, it was a relief.  
“Still don’t know how you haven’t been fired for standing talking to a sketchy very attractive stranger.” Eric said, flexing his muscles.  
Ronald eyed his own skinny arms and rolled his eyes. “Yeah whatever show off. And as for the whole keeping my job thing, I’m very sneaky.”

Before Eric could reply, an elevator swung open and a stern, severe looking man strode out, gaze falling upon Ronald and Eric.  
“Well this can’t be good.” Ronald said, shoulders slumping.  
“RONALD KNOX” the new figure bellowed. “MY OFFICE. NOW.”  
“Maybe not so sneaky” Eric jabbed. Ronald grinned and clapped him on the shoulder.  
“Good luck with the interview, I’ll see you around if I’m not dead.”  
Ronald strode slowly past the front desk, chatting up the receptionists and flirting at light speed, somehow getting all of the girls to fight got his attention.  
“KNOX!” The new stranger snapped. Ronald did a little twirling turn, blew a kiss to the receptionist desk and shot Eric finger guns and a small salute. As the elevator doors slid shut, the room slid back into its cool silence, robbed of Ronald’s contagious energy.

Thanks to Ronald’s interaction with him, Eric was quickly helped at the front desk. A chatty receptionist called in his appointment, and then quickly asked if Eric had Ronald’s number. (Eric honestly regretted not asking. Ronald seemed like the type of friend one could use in London.)  
“You were scheduled to have your interview with Mr. Spears, but he just dragged Ronald away and messaged saying he’s passing all of his appointments over.” The receptionist said.  
“So it’s canceled then? Can I reschedule? What day is good-“ Eric stopped his frantic rambling when he saw that the receptionist was still typing.  
“No no, he handed the appointments over, he didn’t cancel. I’m just seeing if anyone else is available. If no one is, then we cancel.”  
“Oh, alright then.” Eric said, standing awkwardly as the receptionist scrolled through a schedule, scrolled through her Instagram, commented on a few posts and then finally, finally looked up with a bright smile.

“Yeah someone’s available. You good to wait until an hour from now?” She asked.  
“Yeah, I can wait.” Eric said, slumping in relief. He didn’t just need this job, he wanted it too. He could always hunt for another job but this was the one he really wanted. He knew if he missed his shot he’d regret it for the rest of his life.  
“Take any elevator, go to floor seventeen. Then you want to go into hallway 4 and wait in lounge 2. You got that? Seventeen, four two?”  
The secretary huffed at Eric’s nervous expression, grabbed his hand and wrote the three numbers on his hand. “You should moisturize.” She added.  
Eric quickly yanked his hand back and thanked the receptionist. He walked quickly to an elevator, only relaxing once he was safely behind the closed doors. Moisturizing. He’d have to remember that...  
What was he doing! He didn’t need to worry about some blonde Barbie doll. He was confident, Eric thought, walking out of the elevator. He’d give the damn interview his best shot, moisturizer or not. 

Eric made it to the waiting room and sat himself in a cushy brown chair, the room was also circular with skull shaped art, but it was far more cozy than the previous room. Double doors stood at the back of the room, an empty smaller version of the receptionist in front of it like a guard.  
Eric turned to his left and saw a tank of fish, swimming around their skull shaped rocks. What was it with the skulls in this place??

There was a flurry of movement barely seen from the cluttered windows set in the center of the double doors. For a moment Eric could have sworn he saw Ronald, but the sighting was too brief for certainty.  
In an attempt to calm his nerves, Eric turned to the skull-exploring fish, but just as a chubby orange one rounded a corner, the elevator doors slid open and a young man covered in blood wheeled in a cart. A cart that appeared to be carrying a shredded up body bag.  
Eric jumped up and stumbled back in surprise, tripping over another row of chairs. He crashed to the ground as the man wheeled the cart through the double doors, leaving a smear of blood in his wake.  
Eric laid on the ground, trying to comprehend what he had just seen. The shredded bag, the blood covering the man pushing the cart.  
Eric suddenly thought of the health code violations (something he never thought of) and broke out laughing at the oddity of it all. At that exact moment the double doors swung open again, and Eric heard his own name being spoken.  
“Yeah that’s me-OH FUCK-damn, shit god fucking damn it to hell-“ Eric swore. His attempt to quickly jump up and not be seen as the weird man laughing on the floor had lead to him cracking his head across the arm rest of another chair.  
He staggered to the side, stumbling into another person. Said person was shorter and Eric felt himself falling again, dragging the other with him.  
“Uh, sorry.” Eric said awkwardly.  
“No, it’s alright” the stranger said, voice slightly strained.  
“I’m Eric.” Eric said, sitting up. “I swear I’m not this much of a clusterfuck normally.”  
He reached his hand out, and gripped the hand of his accident victim, pulling him into a sitting position as well.  
“Alan.” The other responded. Eric took in the thin brunette before him. He wore wire rimmed glasses and a similar suit to the one Ronald had been wearing.  
“So. I suppose we fell right into the interview process huh?” Eric said, trying for humor. When Alan only looked at him with confusion Eric stiffened, suddenly regretting ever showing up. “Right then, not one for puns, got it.”  
“Oh! No now I get it. No no fell, fall into it, yeah. Sorry, I was thinking literally.”  
The two stared at each other again. 

And then the double doors slammed open smashing Eric in the head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there’s chapter two! Thanks so much for the comments!! It means so much!!
> 
> Stay safe kittens <3


	3. 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaah thank you for the support I know this took forever. I’m sorry XD
> 
> Thanks again for the sweet comments and enjoy!!!

“Fucking hell...” Eric moaned, grabbing his head. He saw stars, and blurs, and blurry stars...  
“Oh fuck. I’ve killed him.” Said a familiar voice. Eric squinted at a blondish blur leaning over him. “Quick we can hide the body.”  
“So dramatic.” A new voice drawled. A new shapeless blob entered Eric’s line of vision. “He’s alive, and isn’t he just adorable.”  
Eric felt gloved hands tilt his chin up, flashes of crimson dominating his sight.  
“That’s going to be a really nasty bruise though. Nice going Ron.”  
“Hey! I didn’t think he was gonna be laying on the floor getting busy.” The blondish blur, apparently Ron said.  
“I know some better spots if you like this one darling.” The red blur said, cozying up to a third blob who jumped back.  
“No no, nothing like that, no not at all, it isn’t like that, it was an accident, um, don’t look at me like that!”  
The red and blonde blurs appeared to exchange a look to the flustered dismay of the third blur.  
Eric suddenly remembered that he was at an interview. Shit, was he wearing clothes? He’d better make a good first impression.  
“Hello m’names Eric” he said groggily, extending a hand and sitting forward before flopping back over onto the ground.  
The red blur snickered, only to be shushed by the third blur.  
“Can you hear me? Are you alright?”  
Slowly Eric’s vision settled, and the outline of the brunette from the previous chair disaster.  
“Yeah, I’m coming back to it now.” Eric said, sitting and staying up this time. “Fucking hell.”  
“Here, um, wow you’re tall, Grelle Ronald can you, yeah under his arms, ok good.”  
Eric felt himself get hoisted to his feet. He turned to his left to see Ronald.  
“Hello again.” Ronald said, flashing a bright smile. “Did I dent your skull?”  
Despite the normal tendency to harm anyone who would slam a door into his head, Eric grinned back. The day was becoming very surreal.  
“Think you got more dents already before this happened.” Eric replied. The comeback didn’t make much sense but the person on his right snickered again.  
“I like this one, he’s cute and funny. Tell me darling, are you single?”  
The figure on his right sported waist length blood red hair and cat’s eye glasses. He...or she?? Was wearing a stylish red version of the suits Alan and Ronald were wearing.  
With his common sense yet to return, Eric inspected the redhead’s chest. Instantly a long manicured nail jabbed into his side.  
“Fuck!”  
“Do watch your eyes darling.” The redhead responded coolly. Before Eric could apologize he was deposited in a chair in an office.  
“Promise I won’t accidentally kill you again.” Ronald said. “But like, sorry in advance if I do.”  
“You’re a damn chaos magnet.” The redhead said, whisking Ronald out of the room. And just like that, Eric was alone with Alan.

“Here, is this the spot?” Alan was leaning over him, pressing an ice pack to his forehead.  
“Yeah, ouch, no that wasn’t you, just hurts.” Eric said, wincing a little.  
“I’d expect so, you got bashed by a door. I’m sorry that happened really, here you can take that.”  
Eric’s insides tingled as his and Alan’s fingers brushed as Eric placed his hand on the ice pack.  
“So does that happen to every recruit or am I just lucky?” Eric asked, trying a comedic approach.  
“What? Oh. No, guess you’re lucky.” Alan responded, smiling.  
“Excellent. Shall we do the interview while my luck’s still here?”  
“You still want to?” Alan asked. Eric nodded, winced, nodded more and winced again.  
“Alright alright don’t hurt yourself.” Alan said, but a smile was still on his face. “Let me pull up the paperwork.”

The next hour was one of the most enjoyable hours of Eric’s life, despite the pounding headache. He felt at ease, relaxed, and any pre interview jitters had vanished.  
That is, until Eric was sent out into the hall to wait for the results. Alan had given him a reassuring smile, stating that he’d be surprised if Eric didn’t make it in.  
Eric had to bite his tongue to prevent himself from rambling about his usually bad luck. Dammit he wanted this job.  
Eric drummed his fingers on his lap, and bounced his leg, and tapped his other foot, and repeatedly ran his fingers through his hair with the hand that wasn’t tapping. Normally one nervous tic wasn’t bad, but four at once? He must look like a squirrely toddler.  
He must have attracted attention because soon a slim brown haired figure walked over with a cup of coffee on it. There was a sticky note on the mug.  
The note read, “caffeinate thyself!” with Ronald’s name signed on it. Eric shook his head. Either he had come off as uncharacteristically charming or he’d met one of the friendliest people in London. Either way. It was nice to have someone on his side like that.  
Eric turned back to the bringer of the coffee. “Thanks, I needed that. Tell Ronald thanks too.”  
The person before him had brown hair a shade lighter than Alan’s, with wide glasses. Their hair was in a ponytail and with their slim frame and wide eyelashes, Eric had even less of a clue of the gender than he had with the redhead.  
Instantly he cringed. That had been very rude. He might not have a chance to apologize to the redhead now, but he could stop himself from making the same mistake. “Name’s Eric. How’s your day going?”  
They looked surprised at first, but then smiled. “Sascha, and good. What has happened to your face?”  
Their voice was smooth and high, but too low to be strictly female. However the fact that they spoke with a strong German accent surprised him more.  
“Oh. A door. And Ronald. Ronald with a door.” Eric said, surprised at how casually he was speaking about Ronald. Dammit he really wanted to stay here.  
Sascha tried and failed to mask laughter. “I’m sorry but that is very unfortunate.”  
“Yeah, guess it is.” Eric said, laughing too as his eyes fell on the expensive looking camera around Sascha’s neck. “Holy hell. You rich or something??”  
Sascha broke out laughing and Eric backtracked. “That came out wrong-“  
“No it’s ok. I am not rich, it is company issued. I am a paid intern. Part of my work involves taking pictures of the bodies. I do other things with it too.”  
“That’s cool-Wait did you say bodies?”  
Sascha nodded. “I go to crime scenes to help, anyways, can I take your picture? I like remembering interactions like this.”  
Sascha resembled a puppy similar to Ronald, but while he most likely was a lab or a collie (something high strung) Sascha was more like a spaniel, adorable and hard to refuse.  
Eric lifted the coffee mug so the “caffinate thyself” message was visible and smiled as his picture was taken with a small flash. Sascha squinted at the screen, presumably looking at the picture.  
“Yes it is good! Oh my break is over, I will send it to you, just give me your office email later.”  
Before Eric could say that he didn’t have one, Sascha had vanished through the doors. Now alone, Eric decided to follow Ronald’s wisdom, and caffinate himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok! New chapter! Done XD  
> Thanks for reading if you got this far <3


	4. 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys!!!! You’re all so sweet thank youuuuuuu  
> You give me motivation XD

“Eric Slingby?” A stern sounding voice asked. It had been so quiet that Eric almost flung his coffee at the noise.  
“Yeah? That’s me.” Eric said, trying to surprises the involuntary jerk of his hand.  
The man behind him gave off an air of authority and organization. Not a single dark brown hair was out of place on his head, and his steel rimmed glasses perfectly matched his immaculate suit and severe looking glare.  
“Come with me.” The words were spoken calmly, but Eric could tell it was an order. The man spun on his heel and walked towards the doors to the employees only area, not pausing to make sure Eric was following. The message was clear. You pull your own weight.  
Eric didn’t have to be told twice. He stumbled after the man straightening in time to look presentable during the half glance over the shoulder he received.  
Eric was lead to an immaculate office that matched its occupant. As his guide settled himself in an office chair Eric made do with a rickety wooden stool which seemed to have been randomly brought in.  
The man tapped a plaque on his desk. “I am William T. Spears.” He said unblinkingly.  
Eric eyed the name plaque. “Thanks mate but I can read.”  
Irritation shot across William’s face as quick and as sharp as a knife. Eric glued his eyes to the ground, mentally trying to rein himself in.  
“You will call me Mr. Spears. I am the supervisor of several teams on this floor and I will tell you now, I only accept the best. No slacking, no disrespect and only the highest work ethic.”  
A mental image of Ronald entered Eric’s mind. He hadn’t known him long but somehow Ronald did not fit the previous words.  
Mr. Spears shuffled papers on his desk. “You will need to sign some of these now, however others can be turned in Monday.” He adjusted his glasses and gave Eric a sharp look. “I do prefer quick efficient work.”  
Eric found himself speechless. At first glance the suit before him had fit every stereotype he’d joked about in bars. But there was something so serious about him, it was impressive, Eric hated to admit.  
“Ok mate where do I sign.” Eric said, sitting up straight.  
A pen whacked the back of his hand. “It’s Mr. Spears to you. I should hope you address your new boss with more respect.”  
“Right, sorry. Wait...” something was starting to sink in.  
“I believe you mean sorry sir.” Mr. Spears said, oblivious to the manic smile that was spreading across Eric’s face.  
“Are you saying I got the job?”  
“I think you mean, are you saying I got the job sir. And yes. Was that not obvious?”  
Eric burst out of his seat with a series of vigorous fist pumps and a small high pitched noise. Mr. Spears regarded him blankly, face not changing.  
“Do try to contain yourself Mr. Slingby. If Mr. Humphries hadn’t convinced me of your worth you would not be here. Do not make me regret my choice.”  
That cut Eric’s victory dance short. He returned to his seat hoping to emulate an obedient soldier. And for the next two hours he was at the mercy of Mr. Spears and never ending paperwork.

That night as he laid in bed, Eric recited a mantra through his head. It was a series of numbers consisting of his floor, office number, team number and amount of signed forms he had to bring in.  
When he rose in the morning he hadn’t slept a wink. He was too excited. If only the bastards he had left behind in Scotland could see him now.  
Eric threw on his suit, picked up his briefcase and matched cheerily out the door the second the clock hit 6:30.  
He returned five minutes later to quickly grab the paperwork he had forgotten. 

“THERE HE IS!” Ronald yelled, slinging an arm around Eric the second he walked into the building. “ATTA BOY! YOU SURVIVED THE WRATH OF SPEARS!”  
A passing older woman shushed Ronald aggressively and the blonde gave her a winning smile and continued to proclaim Eric’s victory loudly.  
“Christ just how much am I paying for the professional congratulatory figure.”  
“Hey, this heavenly beauty is all free.” Ronald said, gesturing to his body. Eric punched him lightly in the shoulder, causing the blonde to poke him in the ribs.  
“Oi! You play dirty!” Eric said, swatting at Ronald as he dodged.  
“Don’t worry. You’ll have time to get me back.” Ronald said, raising his eyebrows.  
“I’m sorry, do you want to fuck me? I feel like you wanna fuck me.” Eric said. At the look on Ronald’s face he broke into laughter. “Relax I’m kidding. I’m straight.”  
“Coulda fooled me.” Ronald said, laughing too. “You sounded so serious!”  
“Sorry.” Eric said, trying to control his laughter. “Anyways, sexual content aside, what did you mean?”  
“Allow me to amaze you with my psychic abilities.” Ronald said, pressing his fingers to his temples. “You are in...team thirteen! That’s my team!”  
Eric stared. “You’re a psychic?”  
This time Ronald broke into laughter first. “No! We got an email last night. If I was psychic I wouldn’t be at this fucking office!”

By the time they arrived at Eric’s office, both were crying from laughing so hard. The trek to the office had been filled with innuendos, insults and a short argument about mangos.  
“I like you.” Eric said, whacking Ronald on the back.  
“Hey! Watch it you bloody giant. I am but a small and fragile creature. But right back at ya. No homo.”  
That statement lead to another two minute laughing fit.  
“Alright, I gotta go pretend to do something.” Ronald said, wiping his eyes. “I’m right down the hall, office 96. I know. It could have been so perfect but alas.”  
Eric had to grip the door frame. “We gotta get you a comedy platform.”  
“I like what you’re thinking.” Ronald said. “Don’t worry, your new bff will return to fetch you for lunch.”  
“Awesome.” Eric said. He held out his hand for a fist bump while Ronald went in for a high five. What resulted was Ronald awkwardly shaking Eric’s fist. It was a catalyst for yet more laughing.  
“Well, I don’t know what that was.” Ronald said. Eric couldn’t answer due to the lack of normal breathing.  
From the belly of the hallway, a shout of “KNOX! OFFICE” could be heard coming from Mr. Spears’ office. After extending his middle finger in the direction of the yell and a response of “I SAW THAT”, Ronald shot Eric a “I fucked up” look before grinning and walking off.  
Eric watched him go. So this was the elusive “good friendship” he had only ever heard of. No heavy peer pressure, just...whatever the hell had transpired between him and Ronald.  
He liked it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaagh I suck at uploading I’m sorry XD
> 
> Thank you all for reading! Stay safe kittens


	5. 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eric makes some friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! A few things. 1. I put this on my wattpad too, so if you guys wanna check it out there, yay! If not, still yay! You're reading it here XD
> 
> 2\. This is actually my second account. I added my main as a co author because I really like this fic, and I wanna put it with my other favorites. I thought I was gonna abandon my original one (It's Livitup) but I changed my mind, and I just decided to add my other account as co author. 
> 
> Yeah that makes total sense. 
> 
> Anywhoooo...chapter time!

Eric was in heaven. He was doing office work, yes, but he had been filing crime case files. That meant he could read them to his heart's desire and have a mini nerd freak out session in the safety of his own office.   
His office. He had an office. Ho-ly shit...  
Eric was jolted from his thoughts by a soft knock on his door. "Come in!" he bellowed, despite the walls being rather thin. He was pretty sure his two elderly office neighbors had been...busy earlier.   
Alan stepped through the door, quietly closing it behind him with the ettequite Eric assumed was expected in a professional workplace.   
"Hi! Good morning, I just wanted to congratulate you. I'm part of team thirteen, so is Grelle, and I think you met Sascha. There are a few others-oh. Sorry, I'm a little excited." Alan said sheepishly. "One thing at a time, yeah?"  
"Hey, I'm reading three things at once. I can multitask." Eric said, internally cringing. That didn't sound as cool as he thought it would.   
"Well, you're clearly talented, and busy, so I'll let you get back to it. I'll probably see you at lunch." Alan said. Eric was tempted to tell him to not leave. Conversations with Ronald were fun and chaotic, but talking with Alan gave Eric a warm feeling, no matter how short or insubstantial.   
"Yeah, I'll see ya then. But drop in any time, the door's always open, even if it's closed. Then all you have to do is open the door." Eric cringed again. This was just getting worse and worse.   
Thankfully Alan laughed. "I'll keep that in mind. I'll see you."  
The warm feeling lasted for the rest of the morning.

At precisely one second into lunch hour, Ronald burst into Eric's office, smashing the door into the wall, and earning a yell of "KNOX" from the direction of Mr. Spears' office.   
"How's it going bestie!" Ronald yelled, shaking Eric by the shoulders.   
"Just how much coffee have you had today?" Eric said, shaking him back.   
"Well aren't you two just perfect together." Eric turned to see the redhead, Grelle was it? leaning in his doorway.   
"No homo." he and Ronald instantly said together. Ronald gave the redhead a deadpan stare. "I've been out of training for a year now! You don't have to follow me anywhere."  
"Oh but you'd miss me so much Ronnie. Besides, I wanted to check out the fresh meat, but I guess you've already claimed him for yourself."  
"No we're not-" Eric started, but he trailed off as the redhead started laughing.   
"I'm joking darling, you're too good for Ronald. But if you're looking for an upgrade, I'm always available." At Eric's stunned expression, the redhead's snickers only grew. "Kidding again, I'm saving myself for William."  
"Objection!" Ronald blurted. "I am a solid eleven out of ten." he struck a pose.   
"And he's a fifteen, so thanks for playing sweetie, but you lose." the redhead replied sassily. "So are we going to go eat or not? I'm starving."  
"Ladies first." Ronald said. "C'mon Eric. Can't keep the fans waiting."  
"Wouldn't you have to have friends first?" Eric asked. The redhead snickered again. "Yes, I definitely like you."

Ronald lead Eric to a break room with several other people in it. Eric recognized Sascha, and to his delight, Alan.   
"Meet the rest of the highly esteemed team thirteen!" Ronald said grandly. "You met Alan, our resident mum friend. I'm the super attractive lady magnet of the team, obviously. That's Sascha, our mascot. Grelle's our raging psychopath, Othello's our necrophile, and that's German Mr. Spears."  
"Stop calling me a necrophile!" Othello protested. Eric recognized him as the one who'd been wheeling the cart with the body on it. Sascha waved cheerily at him, and the one labeled German Mr. Spears...well he did give off a very Spears-esque vibe.   
"You forgot the attractive in attractive raging psychopath." Grelle said, flopping down on a chair and putting her feet on the table. Eric eyed her heels in awe. She moved fast for someone wearing those things.   
"Shh, no interrupting the sharing circle." Ronald said. "It's part of the initiation process. This the part where we forcefully make friends with Eric. Now everyone play nice and introduce yourselves. Othello, you first."  
Grelle rolled her eyes as Othello spoke up. "Yeah, hi. I'm the medical operative. I examine the bodies, perform autopsies, check the cause of death and I am not a necrophile." he shot a look at Ronald. Ronald gave him a thumbs up and pointed dramatically to Sascha. "Next one, go!"  
"Yes, hello!" Sascha said brightly. "You know me! Well, we will get to know each other! But not in a forceful way!" He was precious. Eric swore to protect him.  
"I am Rudgar. Not German Mr. Spears." Eric almost burst out laughing. Like Sascha, he had a German accent. "I am the assistant leader. You defer to me as well as Mr. Spears."  
"And the poor thing is associating with us commoners. I'm flattered." Grelle said, twisting a strand of hair through her fingers. "Hello darling, I'm Grelle Sutcliffe. I'm just a common old investigator like Ronniekins. And you now!"  
"Don't call me that." Ronald said. "And yeah, we're the lackies. We go to the scene, talk to witnesses, boring stuff."  
"Boring? That's incredible." Eric said. His inner crime nerd was dancing.   
"Then you're going to be happy here." Alan said. "I'm officially the record keeper. I compile everything we gain on cases we're working. Not my preferred position..."  
"Poor baby's upset over his promotion." Grelle sighed.   
"No! It's not that. I prefer doing field work, and ever since the promotion I get less of that." Alan said. "By no means am I upset about the pay raise."  
"Well you're less likely to die in this office." Ronald said. "Actually, that's sadder. I always say the workload here kills me. Imagine if I actually died here. That's so sad! I wanna die somewhere cool. Like a strip club."  
"Shhh, protect the innocence." Grelle said, placing her hands over Sascha's ears.   
Eric looked around at his teammates. Aside from Mr. Spears, this was everyone. Alan caught him looking over the room and winked. Eric tried to wink back, but it probably looked more like aggressive blinking. Alan laughed, which confirmed his theory. Why did he keep embarrassing himself around Alan?  
Lunch passed with no one actually eating, but Eric didn't care. He'd gained something more important than nutrients. He had gained friends.   
...And by god was that a cheesy sentiment. Maybe he should have eaten something after all.


	6. 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update time! I realized that these last two chapters are pretty short, so they're gonna get a little longer after this one XD  
> Also I'm a total spacy idiot, and I forgot to mention that my wattpad user is Liv-inlavitaloca. I know, so many great usernames I can put my name into XD  
> Anywho, I'm done being dumb, for now. Enjoy the chapter!

It had been one day, and Eric was already running into issues. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't seem to figure out how to work a certain aspect of the filing system...  
"Dammit!" Eric cursed, as he pasted the document he was trying to file six times over. Now back to the ritual of deleting everything.  
Eric's computer dinged, prompting him to switch over to another tab. Office chatrooms were the main form of communication, allowing easy access to anyone. Eric clicked his meme-ridden chat with Ronald. 

E.Slingby: Ronaaaaaaaaald  
R.Knox: Yes bby?  
R.Knox: Oh thought that said Erica. It's just you D:  
E.Slingby: Gee thx. I need help.  
R.Knox: Therapy is above my pay grade.  
E.Slingby: Fuck you.  
R.Knox: After Erica ;)  
E.Slingby: Do you know how to file xl files?  
R.Knox: Lol, no.   
E.Slingby: How did you ever get hired?  
R.Knox: Tis' a mystery  
E.Slingby: And here I thought you were smart  
R.Knox: What? Me have mind of caveman.  
E.Slingby: That's being generous.  
R.Knox: Ouch, my poor heart.   
E.Slingby: Awww, want me to kiss it better  
R.Knox: Yes pls :D  
R.Knox: Seriously tho ask Alan. He knows everything.   
E.Slingby: Thank you. Good day to you sir.  
R.Knox: Good day *tips hat*

Eric clicked over to Alan's icon and hit "start new convo." Alright. He could have a text conversation without appearing like an idiot. 

E.Slingby: You're the only one that can help me. 

What the FUCK was that???

A.Humphries: Well that sounds daunting. I hope you don't need an organ donation or something.   
E.Slingby: Nope, all good in that department. I need your hand  
E.Slingby: *a hand

WHAT WAS WRONG WITH HIM

A.Humphries: Sure, what do you need?  
E.Slingby: I need to file this xl file. It has a lot of words. It's too big for the process I learned earlier and I have no idea what I'm doing. 

Well now he just sounded pathetic.

A.Humphries: You just open the file converter, paste it in, select pdf, hit convert, then drag and drop the file in where you want it to go.   
E.Slingby:...In english pls  
A.Humphries: It might be easier if I showed you...  
A.Humphries: Hold on a moment. I'll be right there. 

That conversation hadn't been a complete disaster...right? Before Eric could finish contemplating his life's choices, his door opened and Alan walked in.   
"Welcome back." Eric said, fighting the urge to slam his head on the desk. What was wrong with him?  
"Glad to be back." Alan said, gracing Eric with a small smile. "I'll file that for you, and you can watch me do it. Sound good?"  
"Yup." Eric said, rolling away from his desk. "Oh wait, you want the chair?"  
Alan laughed. "What a gentleman. But I'm alright. It doesn't take long." he slid into the space Eric had created by moving the chair. "Ok, like this."  
Eric didn't watch what the mouse was doing on the screen. He found himself watching Alan instead. For years, the idea of what masculinity was had been beaten into Eric, both literally and figuratively. Alan had none of those traits, despite being a person Eric found himself admiring. He'd never in a million years have Alan's calm and patient manner, or the level of intelligence he so clearly had...  
"Just like that!" Alan said. "Alright, any questions?"  
Eric froze. "Um...no. But just to make sure you have it down, do it again."  
Alan laughed. "I get it, it's boring."  
"No! I love...filing. Yup, love filing. Love it to bits. I just got lost in my...filing excitement. Yeah."  
Alan laughed again, and Eric found himself laughing too.   
And then the coughing began. 

It started out quietly, something that could easily be disguised as laughter, but slowly it grew harsher, louder, until Alan's entire slight frame was shaking with the effort of forcing air from his lungs. He was practically holding himself up by clinging to Eric's desk. The entire spell was maybe twenty seconds, but to Eric it seemed much longer. "What the hell!" he blurted.  
"Apologies." Alan said breathlessly. "I promise I'm not contagious."  
"No! I'm not worried about that. What the hell was that? Are you ok?" he stared at the brunette with concern.   
"I'm fine. That was nothing." he kept his eyes fixed on the computer screen, refusing to look at Eric.   
"No, that sure as hell wasn't nothing." Eric countered. "I thought you were about to drop dead or something! Should I call someone?" He stood up and thrust his chair at Alan. "Take the chair."  
Alan shook his head. "No, it's alright. I'm fine." Eric could still hear a slight wheezing as he took slow breaths.   
"Sit. In. The. Damn. Chair." Eric said. "Please." It was most likely the please that did it, but Alan finally took the chair, slumping into it, breathing still uneven.   
"Fine, ok. I'm sitting. Happy?"  
"No." Eric said. "Is anyone in this building a doctor?"  
"Ronald is."  
"Seriously?"  
"No. I was kidding." Alan smiled weakly at Eric's incredulous stare. "See? I'm perfectly alright."  
"Perfectly alright people don't cough up their lungs." Eric said stubbornly.  
"Alright, maybe I'm a little sick-"  
"A little!"  
"-but that's all. I'm fine Eric, truly." Alan said, finally meeting his eyes. "I promise."  
"Alright. I'm trusting you." Eric said. "No! You're not allowed to get up!"  
"You're here one day and you're already running the place." Alan sighed, but he didn't try to get up.   
"Sorry, but I'm not letting anyone die in my office." Eric said. Did that sound too insensitive? Eric wasn't sure. It seemed easier to say than openly admitting how worried he was about someone who he'd just met, but already was starting to care for...  
"I'm not dying." Alan said. "The most dangerous thing in this room is you."  
"Shit." Eric swore. "I'm not trying to be threatening-"  
"Oh! No, no that was another joke. Christ, before you came I didn't even attempt humor because I'm this bad at it. No, no, you're not scaring me, I'm just saying that you could probably kill a man with this chair. Not that I think you're going to kill me with a chair! Oh bloody hell I need to stop talking."  
Eric felt the tension in his chest lessen. Alan's breathing had returned to normal, and it seemed that he wasn't the only overly awkward person in this room right now. That thought was strangely comforting.   
"I take that as a compliment. It's not every day you're identified as the Chair Master." Eric said. "Now if I added a stapler, no one in this building would be safe."  
Alan stared at him. "Oh no, do not encourage me."  
Eric grinned. "Why not? I think you're on to something here. I'm a potentially dangerous criminal with all sorts of chairs at my disposal. You might be saving hundreds."  
Alan smiled back. "I have my theories. I'll trust you for now...but if I hear anything about someone getting injured by a chair, I make no promises."  
"I will keep that in mind." Eric said.   
The conversation flowed easily between them. Eric had discovered that once they overcame the combined disaster of their socially awkward tendencies, they could enter a new area that was comfortable and easy. If this was a video game, Eric definitely would have leveled up.   
But that day marked the beginning of Eric carefully watching Alan's chest rise and fall, while trying to suppress the knot of worry he felt.


	7. 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longer chapters begin...now!!  
> I'm in the process of moving some other fics from my wattpad onto a03, but I'm gonna try and keep a regular update schedule for this. I'm gonna try at least XD
> 
> Anywho, I feel like I'm just annoying in these notes, so I'm gonna shut up. Chapter time! (Also mild gore warning)

Eric had been working for two weeks when things really started to get interesting. It had all started when he was peacefully trying to file a few more XL files. (Thanks to Alan he was pretty sure he'd never forget how to do it) and listening to a great piano jazz radio station. The peace was shattered, however, when Ronald burst through his office door.  
"Get your ass in gear! We're leaving!" the faux blonde shouted. "Woo! It's gonna be a doozy today!"  
"One, have you ever heard of fucking knocking!" Eric yelled, tossing paper at Ronald. "Two, you gotta use smaller words. My squirrel brain can't keep up. What's going on?"  
"Right, my bad. Should have figured you wouldn't understand." Ronald cleared his throat and said in a horrible Scottish accent: "We're going out today, examining a crime scene. This is the fun part. First we gotta get briefed on the case though, which is not fun. So meet where we have lunch in a few minutes or your ass is getting Speared."  
"I am offended." Eric said, rolling his eyes. "I don't sound that horrible. And what was that about my ass getting speared?"  
"Speared, Verb." Ronald said cordially. "The act of an enraged Mr. Spears potentially causing bodily harm to a poor employee, because they are late."  
"Yeah, say no more. Let's go." Eric laughed. "I'm not getting Speared today."

"What a surprise. You're the last one here as usual Knox." Mr. Spears said, eyeing Ronald and Eric as they approached the doorway. Ronald quickly dashed past Eric and dove through the doorway.   
"That's what you think! Now Eric's the last one." Ronald said proudly. Eric gave him the finger.   
"An excellent display of office maturity." Mr. Spears sighed, staring down at a file on his desk. Eric saw Alan trying to hide a smile.   
"Well this isn't good." Ronald whispered. "We must have a bad one. Normally he'd take the time to chew us out, but if whatever he read was enough to get under his skin, we'd better buckle our seatbelts."  
"Can you tell me what the bloody fuck is actually going on?" Eric whispered back.  
"Language, Mr. Slingby." Mr. Spears said. "And yes, I will explain briefly. As you are aware, our operatives go into the field often to handle certain cases. I'm certain you've been aware of the various occult killings cropping up all over London as well. Those murders are growing increasingly concerning. It is well past time, but at long last the authorities have handed the case over to us. There was a new victim this morning. We are going to investigate the body, talk to witnesses, search for evidence, review security tapes-"  
"He gets it Will, darling." Grelle said. "We're going to be detectives! But more badass, minus Ronald."  
"That's Mr. Spears to you." Mr. Spears said coldly. He eyed Ronald, shutting the blonde up before he could speak. "We move out now."  
"So what, we're spies?" Eric asked.   
"I wish. Spies get girls." Ronald sighed. "No, we're just the guys you call when shit gets really bad. We do look really official though. We get driven around and everything. It would be perfect. If only the driver was a hot girl instead of a big hairy guy named Ralph."   
Eric snorted and followed Ronald out of the room. The entire group moved with purpose, Eric noticed. Sascha was impulsively cleaning the lenses of their camera. Othello hefted a large black bag.   
"What's in there?" Eric asked. "Looks heavy, you got it ok?"  
"Oh, it's my equipment. Everything I'd need to do a surface autopsy. If I find something really odd, we bring the body back with us. And yes, it's heavy, but I'm ok." Othello wheezed.   
"Right then." Eric said, patting his shoulder. "So what exactly do I do?"  
"Well we all have our roles." Alan spoke up. "Othello and Sascha will mostly stay with the body, unless we find something else that should be photographed. Mr. Spears will be speaking to other officials, doing crowd control, making sure we can work in peace."  
"So we do the grunt work." Eric said. "Excellent."  
"Oh poor baby." Ronald rolled his eyes. "We get the fun stuff!"  
Alan nodded. "Rudgar and I are the second tier management. You'll report to us. We'll be traveling around, checking in with you all and gathering information. Me for the official report, and him for the report for Mr. Spears. You, Ronald and Grelle are in charge of evidence collection. You'll be the ones talking to witnesses and such, although Rudgar and I will too. In all honesty I prefer doing evidence collection. I feel useless just supervising."  
"You're not useless." Grelle said. "What's useless is my flirting skills and Ronald's romance advice."  
"Excuse me? I could write a damn book." Ronald said.   
"But Ronnie dearest, you'd need to know how to spell big words." Grelle said sweetly. "And besides, I don't want some flaky one night stand. I want the real deal. Passion, lust, the flames of romance that will last decades!"  
"Damn, maybe you should be the writer." Eric laughed.  
"We break into pairs of two." Ronald said, as the group made their way outside. "Four cars, two in each."  
Eric saw the group dividing into pairs. Grelle made a dash for the car nearest Mr. Spears. Eric wanted to be with Ronald, or even better, Alan, but a firm hand on his shoulder stopped him.  
"You will come with me. You need to be briefed on the case. The others already have." Rudgar said. Eric wasn't sure if the guy ever blinked. Ronald gave him a sympathetic look, before waving down Sascha and throwing himself into another car. 

Once Eric was situated in a limo-like car, Rudgar handed him a thick file. "This is everything we currently know about the unsub. I do not expect you to read it all, so here is a rundown."  
"Right, thanks." Eric said, setting the paper down. "He was an unfortunately slow reader at the best of times.  
"The public has fondly named our unsub "the Demon" due to the brutality of the murders, and the occult symbols left around the scene, be it written on walls, on the ground, or carved into the body itself." he pulled a bloody photo from the file.  
Eric grimaced. "Ouch."  
Rudgar nodded. "Yes. Ouch." He returned the photo to the file. "The Demon does not have a specific type of victim. He has killed children, adults, elderly, different racial groups, different social classes. That is unusual."  
Eric nodded. He remembered reading something like that.   
"Recently the Demon's activities have been picking up. The police have decided that they cannot handle the current situation. All we currently have is a profile created by Mr. Spears. We cannot trust any of the evidence the police have. We are starting from scratch. That is why it is essential to get to the body."  
"Why can't we trust the police's info?" Eric asked.  
Rudgar fixed him with an icy look. "It is one of our most important rules. We conduct our investigations. We collect our evidence. We make the arrests, we handle the legal action. We can only trust ourselves."  
Alright...so this guy was intense. He really was like German Mr. Spears. Oh well, Eric would follow the rules. He was intrigued so far.   
"You will be guided through this first investigation." Rudgar continued. "You will be partnered with someone who is not Ronald, because then nothing would get done."  
"I take it you two don't get on so well." Eric said.  
"You know nothing about me. Do not assume. I do not make a habit of socializing with my underlings. Given Ronald's ability to get distracted in under a minute, it would be best to eliminate the possibility of him making a work-clone of himself."  
Underling huh? Big words for a guy Eric could tear in half. But this wasn't the playground. Rudgar was technically above him. It wasn't even a huge issue. He doubted Rudgar would want Eric to tail him, so that meant he'd be with either Grelle or Alan. He was always happy spending time with Alan, and he still needed to officially apologize to Grelle.  
But first he had to survive a twenty minute car ride with Rudgar. 

Thankfully, the rest of the drive wasn't too terrible. Rudgar hadn't spoken since they concluded the briefing, and that was perfectly fine with Eric. Rudgar was the kind of person Eric had learned to avoid. Ambitious and power hungry, these were the clever people who could screw dumb muscleheads like Eric over with no guilt. Rudgar was obviously an experienced worker. His English was possibly better than Eric's.   
"You're alive!" Ronald said cheerfully. "How was the car ride from hell?"  
"Rudgar is not so bad." Sascha said, but they didn't make any attempts to stop Ronald from mocking him.  
"All of you, over here now." Mr. Spears commanded. Once everyone had crowded together, he continued. "The press is already here, so I'm going to be stuck dealing with those imbeciles. You know the drill. Someone who's not Knox can accompany Mr. Slingby."  
"What did I ever do?" Ronald protested.  
"Nothing. That is the problem." Mr. Spears said coolly. "Now, get to work. We have three hours." With that, their suit clad leader strode over to the flashes of cameras and murmurs of reporters.   
"So...now what?" Eric asked.   
"Now we get to the body so I can examine it!" Othello said.   
"Pro tip." Ronald said. "You don't wanna eat before these things."

"Oh god." Eric said. "That's...damn..."  
A man and a woman were stretched out on the cement ground of the train station the team had been summoned to. It was creepy how empty it was. The two were almost completely alone in their concrete graves.  
Both lacked all clothing, but it was honestly hard to tell. Brutal, red slice marks covered the bodies. Each shape was complex and twisting. Eric could only assume that these were the occult symbols.   
The most disturbing thing was how they were laid out. Their fingertips were mere inches apart from each other, as if they had been reaching for each other one last time. They never made it.  
"Oh wow, there's never been a double murder before." Othello said, pulling on gloves and digging in his bag. "Sascha take the before photos. I think I'm gonna have to open them up. Look, stitches."  
Eric squinted and saw a thin line of nearly perfect stitches going up the stomachs of both bodies, all the way to their necks.  
"He sometimes carves symbols on the insides, then sews them back up." Othello explained.   
"Oh..."  
"We can get going." Alan said, gently pulling Eric away. "It's ok. I've never gotten used to seeing them either. The best we can do for them is to give them justice."  
"Yeah." Eric said. Grelle elbowed Ronald and the two started off in the opposite direction.  
"Guess you're with me then. Hope you're ok with that." Alan said. "We're taking the left side. Right now we're looking for any outlying evidence. Don't get your hopes up though. Everything might have been erased during the evacuation."  
"Wait, you mean he dumped the body while the station was open?" Eric asked. Alan stared at him.   
"What? Where'd you get that from?" Alan asked, staring at him.  
"Huh? Oh. So this is the station I rode into London in. I read it operates 24/7, and given the general flow of travel, it's always busy. So there's no chance for the Demon to dump the body when there's no one around. Because there isn't a time when no one's around."  
Alan nodded, still looking surprised. "That's absolutely right. He always leaves the bodies in a crowded area. That's what makes this so bizarre. How on earth did someone drop off two dead bodies in a crowded station?"  
"He had to blend in somehow." Eric said. "He probably looked like any other bloke."  
"But how did he drop the bodies." Alan challenged. "They were found out in the open. We don't know the time frame yet, but they were discovered right in the middle of the floor."  
"Suitcase trolley." Eric said. "Or something like that. He probably had them loaded up in one of those bad boys. I'm not sure how he dumped them, but I'm guessing that he transported them like that."  
"That's actually a good theory." Alan said. "And that gives us something to go off of. Tell you what, we're going straight to check security footage."  
"What for?"  
"We can watch the trolleys, see if any of them went past that spot. I can't promise it'll come to anything, but it's a solid lead."  
Eric grinned. "Holy shit, I found a lead. I feel so cool. Wait, that sounded dorky."  
Alan laughed. "Yes you did. Find a lead I mean. You don't sound dorky. It's cute."  
Eric stared. Was he just called cute? Him, a six foot tall decently built guy. Cute?  
Today was a good day indeed. 

"Holy tech stuff Batman." Eric said, as he and Alan were lead to the security room by a stressed looking guard. "That's a lot of computers."  
"This is my natural habitat." Alan said. "I can make these systems purr at my touch. Oh, that sounded a little risque." he laughed awkwardly.  
"Don't worry. I won't tell Spears." Eric said, grinning. He liked Alan more and more every moment they spent together. He was quiet and calm, but also smart with a twisted sense of humor, despite his kind and polite personality.   
"Oh thank you, you've practically saved my life." Alan laughed. "Here, you get a crash course in navigating these kinds of systems. Come here."  
Eric mentally cursed his large frame. He and Alan were pressed up against each other with their shoulders touching. "Um, sorry."  
"Mm?" Alan asked. "Here, you navigate like this. We're going to start with the footage of where the bodies were found, see how many trolleys went past that spot, or if they somehow caught the actual drop. If not, we can trace them all back. I think they're numbered..."  
Eric watched as Alan's fingers flew across the keyboard. The brunette hummed to himself, clicking files and scanning footage. "Ah! Here we are. Sorry, now it gets boring." he tapped the spot where the body was found on the screen. "Make note of any trolleys you see in the view. Even if they don't get especially close to the drop point."  
"Got it, counting sheep, crime edition." Eric said. God dammit! Why did he keep saying these things!  
Thankfully Alan laughed. "Just don't fall asleep on me."  
Eric grinned back. "Wouldn't dream of it."

Half an hour later, they had finally finished viewing the footage.  
"You weren't kidding. That was a little dry." Eric said.   
Alan sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah, but it has to be done. It'll be easier to narrow things down when Othello finishes the autopsy, but I really think we're onto something with the trolley thing. Sorry, sometimes I get a little excited."  
"Hey, I'm like, a crime virgin." WHY! WHY WAS HE SAYING THESE THINGS!  
Alan snorted. "You're honestly really funny. That's a compliment! You're just charming."  
Eric had been called cute, and now charming. Today was a good day.   
"Alright, how many did you count." Alan asked.  
"I think fourteen, but maybe a few were the same ones appearing twice."  
"Same, I did see numbers. Maybe we can narrow it down a little more, but that's alright for a basic count."  
"There was one that caught my eye." Eric said. "Like it passed through the area about three times. Here, lemme show you." Eric moved forward, accidentally bumping against Alan. "Aack, sorry, I hate my mammoth shoulders." WHERE WERE THESE WORDS COMING FROM.  
"It's alright." Alan laughed.   
"Ok, here, watch." Eric said. "It's that one." he skipped forward. "And there it goes again." he skipped forward once more. "And then again there."  
"You're right." Alan said. "I'm definitely getting some vibes from that one."  
Eric grinned. He unironically used the word vibe. He really liked Alan.   
"Yeah, but there's something else. Every time it passes, it has different luggage. Like there's a pink flowery bag one time, and then a red one another time, like it's making rounds."  
"Mhm, you're right."  
"But did you see the dark blue bag? The big one? That one's always there."  
Alan replayed the footage. "Oh! You're right! That's certainly big enough to keep those poor souls in. Do you think he was scoping the area? Personally I think he wasn't. He probably picked the spot before hand. I'm not quite sure what he's doing."  
"I agree. He's organized." Eric said. "I dunno enough about his behavior to make a good guess right now. Sorry."  
"What are you apologizing for! This is your first investigation! You picked up on a lead and found some crucial details! You've done amazing!" Alan cried. "I think we should look into that cart. Number thirteen yes?"  
"Yeah. Unlucky number. Think that plays into the demon symbols and stuff or am I crazy?"  
"I'm not sure, I think that might be a little out there, but who knows." Alan pulled a flashdrive out of his pocket and clicked a few keys on the keyboard. "Give me just a moment to make a copy of this. I think it'll be something Mr. Spears will like."  
"So what's he doing right now anyways?" Eric asked. "He doesn't seem like someone who would smile for the camera."  
"Exactly. He doesn't. He keeps the press away to not spread panic, and keep information airtight. If the unsub knows what we're up to, we're just more steps behind. I know it seems like he's dumping the hard work on us, but it's really a tough job. The one and only time I tried crowd control I had a panic attack. But I didn't give any information away, so I suppose it was a success."  
Eric stared at Alan. "Damn."  
Alan smirked. "Talented aren't I. Come on, laugh. It's fine. I know how stupid I looked."  
"You're anything but stupid, trust me." Eric said. He gestured to the humming monitors. "Pretty sure those things weren't purring before you got here."  
Alan laughed, withdrawing the flashdrive. "You're never going to let me live that down huh? Oh well. I'm certain I can get you back." he smiled mischievously. "Come on crime virgin, we have some security personnel to talk to."  
Eric grinned. He really really liked Alan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully I'll be back with an update before long. I hope you enjoyed! Stay safe kittens!


	8. 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the later update! I'll try and make it up with the chapter!

So the security guard wasn't in a chatty mood. Eric had assumed that he hadn't had his morning coffee, but the guy downed six cups in the fifteen minutes they'd been waiting for him to talk.   
"So." Eric said for the third time. "Can we talk about the-"  
"I want nothing to do with you people. Waltzin' in like we can't do our jobs."  
"Well in fairness we wouldn't be here if it was a normal case." Alan said calmly. "This isn't the first time he's gotten past camera-"  
"DID I FUCKIN' ASK?" The guard roared. Alan recoiled, eyes shifting to the ground.   
Alright, that was it. This was Eric's territory now. Angry screaming overweight fuckheads? He knew what to do.  
"Hey, mate, you hungry? I got a nice knuckle sandwich right here."  
"Eric!" Alan hissed.   
"Either you start talking or I crack your skull open and sift through your thoughts myself!" Eric said, standing up straighter.   
"You wouldn't-"  
Eric grabbed the guard by the shirt collar. "Watch me."  
"Hey Ala...oh hey." Ronald had come bursting through the door, stopping when he saw the chaos. "Uh, you want me to let you finish murdering him? I'll keep watch!"  
Eric grinned. "Yeah. Don't worry, this won't take too long."  
The guard was starting to sweat.   
"Eric, darling." Grelle drawled, striding up to him. She pulled out a strangely sharp pair of scissors. "Use these."  
The guard went pale.   
Eric tried on his best evil grin. "Thanks."  
"This is so not protocol." Alan mumbled.   
"You people are fuckin' crazy!" the guard whimpered.   
"Then how about we sit down and have a nice, civil conversation." Eric said, snipping the scissors.   
"I'm gonna tell your boss!"  
"He's the boss." Eric said, pointing to Alan. "You don't see anything going on here, right Alan?"  
"...not at all." Alan said slowly. The guard's face was completely white now.   
"Ok! Ok! Jesus fuckin' Christ! I'll tell you whatever you want!"   
"Shame." Grelle sighed, taking her scissors back, returning them to her pocket. Eric hoped there was a good story behind those things.   
"Now talk." Eric said, releasing the guard. And he did. 

"I can't see for shit." Ronald complained. The trolleys had been returned to a store room that looked like it hadn't been used in years. "They probably tossed these in when they closed down the station."  
"We're looking for thirteen." Alan said. He still seemed a little anxious. "If we can find the data tag we can use the password we got to see where it's been."  
"Today's a good day. I've never gotten to threaten a witness with murder before." Grelle said cheerfully.   
"Hey." Ronald slid up next to Eric. "Alan's never broken the rules before. Ever! No offense to him but usually he's a major goody-goody. He must really like you."  
Eric tried to ignore the flutter in his chest. Why was the flutter even there? Why did it exist? Stupid flutter.  
Thankfully, if he'd reacted physically, Ronald couldn't tell in the dark store room. There were no lights, only a few feeble windows. Ronald had been dragging his feet, kicking up the dirt.  
"Ronald for chrissake I will carry you if you don't stop that." Grelle said. "It's hard enough not to see."  
"Aww, is counting too hard?" Ronald teased. "Here, watch this." he turned to a crooked row of trolleys. "Twenty seven, thirty two, forty one, three...oh."   
"They're not in order Ron." Alan said. Grelle snickered.   
"So we're gonna have to go through these one by one." Eric sighed. "How much time we got left?"  
"I think we're good." Ronald said. "Besides, this seems like the only lead we got. I say we grab that data tag and then a few rounds."  
Grelle grimaced. "Never trust Ronald's sense of time." she whispered to Eric.   
"Alright, Eric take that corner, Ronald take the back one, Grelle the back left, and I'll look around this one." Alan said.   
"Why do I get the creepy looking one?" Ronald whined.   
"They're all creepy looking." Grelle sighed, shaking out her red hair.   
Eric turned to his own corner of trolleys. He sighed, and began to carefully step around them, checking their numbered tags. Seventeen, forty five, ninety one, three hundred and eight...dear god how many of these things were there!"  
A high pitched scream echoed from Ronald's corner. Eric turned in time to see Ronald duck to the ground as a pair of bats flew over his head. "I GOT THE CREEPY ONE!"  
"DON'T SHOO THEM AT ME!" Grelle yelled back.   
"WHO DO YOU THINK I AM? THE GRAND BAT MASTER?"  
As the two very confused bats swooped the room, Eric found himself looking at the ceiling of the store room. It was made up of steel beams that crossed over in a twisted pattern. He could see the dust covering the beams as well. How long had it been since anyone else had been in here?  
"Fuck!" the bats dove for Ronald again, who was standing near their supposed home. "I don't wanna be a vampire!"  
Eric was no stranger to bats. They nested in his old attic back in Scotland. "Calm down, I got em." he tested his weight on a dusty older stack of trolleys. These ones clearly hadn't been used in years. They were an older fashion and lacked the numbered tags. They were stacked in front of a window, and Eric hoisted himself up. Once he reached the ledge, he gathered his strength and shoved, expecting the window to be stiff with age.   
It flew straight open, slamming into the wall, causing a cascade of dust to shower down on the room.   
"For fuck's sake!" Grelle shrieked.   
Ronald was caught directly in the crossfire and succumbed to a fit of coughing and sneezing. The bats were less amused by this then Eric was, and the two spiraled out the window. Eric watched them go. The window opened up to the ground level of the station. They had entered a basement like area, and Eric could see grass...  
And something else.   
"Hey." Eric said slowly. "Did it rain recently?"  
"I don't think they get weather down here." Grelle said drily.   
"No! Did it rain?"  
"It rained last Wednesday." Grelle said. "We're having the weirdest spell of good weather..."  
"So these footprints got here after Wednesday." Eric said.   
"Footprints?" Grelle asked.  
"Well, not really footprints, but there's a little bit of a shoe mark...Oh shit!" Eric quickly yanked his hands off the window. "Someone's touched the window too."  
"Wait, hold on." Alan said, running over. "So does this mean-"  
"I think the Demon came in through here." Eric said. "It's clearly never been used since the staff cleared all the carts away and we got here. There's no lighting, so I'm guessing there are no cameras either. He had to have come in through here."  
"Come to think of it, I didn't see this store room or the window on the blueprints of the station." Grelle said. "We even found this accidentally. How did the Demon ever think of this window?"  
"And why'd he leave evidence?" Ronald wheezed, barely recovered from his fit. "I'm fucking dying Eric, thanks..."  
"Maybe he got confident." Grelle shrugged. "Again, we got lucky."  
Eric shook his head. "I don't think so. He's always meticulous. He always wipes prints and tracks."  
"So he didn't have time to." Alan finished slowly. "He was in a hurry."  
"Why?" Ronald asked. "What changed? He's never rushed before."  
"He's never dropped two victims either." Grelle said. "Maybe he underestimated how much time he'd need."  
"Criminal with a schedule. Great." Ronald said sarcastically.   
Something about that statement gave Eric a feeling...but before he could fully think it through, the trolleys shifted and he crashed to the ground.  
"Oh shit! You ok?" Ronald said, yanking Eric to his feet. Eric nodded, coughing.   
"Ronnie, you and me should go around up, see where the window is from the outside." Grelle said.  
"Goody, fresh air." Ronald said. "You're on a role today Eric."  
"Tada." Eric said weakly, giving him a thumbs up. Alan rubbed his back.   
"Right then, you two keep looking. We'll yell down when we find the window. Ta-ta darlings."  
And then it was just the two of them.  
"Seriously, you must be a lucky charm or something." Alan laughed.  
"Nah, thank the bats." Eric said.   
"I'm sure that'll hold up great in court. Ask the bats."  
Eric laughed too. "Yeah, they'll love it." he turned back to the store room and sighed. "Well, back to it then." 

Fifteen minutes went by in silence. Eric had sifted through what felt like dozens of trolleys, each further away from the number thirteen. "Oh for fuck's sake. This is hopeless. What happened to Ronald and Grelle? It shouldn't take them that long to find the damn window." when he got no response, Eric continued rambling. "Imagine Mr. Spears down here, sorting through this crap. Poor bastard would get his pretty suit all dirty..." Eric trailed off. He quickly rubbed his hand over the tag in front of him, in case it was a mirage. "Hey! I got it!"   
"Coming!" Alan's voice sounded slightly strained. When he appeared next to Eric, his cheeks were flushed and his eyes were teary.   
"You alright there?" Eric asked.   
Alan nodded. "Small coughing fit, nothing to worry about."  
"Christ, is the air not good for you?" Eric said worriedly.   
"It's not good for anyone." Alan said. Eric noticed his voice was a little hoarse. "Do you have the tag?" Eric held up the white tag with the black number thirteen. Alan shook his head. "No, the data tag. It should be unde-under...under the-" he dissolved into an even harsher coughing fit than the one in the office.   
Eric didn't have to be a doctor to see that this really wasn't good. While Ronald's coughing fit had been mingled with swears, Alan was fully doubled over, coughs harsh and ragged. Eric grabbed the trolley with one hand, and Alan with the other, dragging both out of the store room and into the dimly lit stairwell.   
Alan had partially recovered by the time Eric slammed the storeroom door. The coughing hadn't ceased, but it was slowly easing up.   
"Uh, take deep breaths." Eric said, unsure what else to do. Now he was regretting that he wasn't a doctor.   
"I'm ok." Alan managed between coughs.   
"Like hell!" Eric retorted, feeling slightly useless.   
Alan shook his head, breathing evening slightly. "Really, I am...Perfectly fine..."  
"I'm an idiot but I'm not that stupid." Eric said, crossing his arms. "Do I call someone? Do you need a doctor-"  
Alan waved his hand in a dissmissive motion, still catching his breath. "No! no, it's ok. See? I'm already...already getting better."  
Thankfully he seemed to be right. The effects of the spell seemed to be slowly fading. Still, Eric wasn't convinced.   
Alan could clearly tell how worried he was. Eric wondered if his concern was written across his face or something. Eric expected Alan to try and reassure him again, but instead, the brunette smiled.  
"You know, I'm...I'm honestly flattered you're worried. You d-didn't act like this with Ronald..."   
Eric stared at him. "Ronald didn't sound like he was actively dying!"  
"You must really like me." His voice was still weak, but his eyes were glittering with mischief.   
Eric on the other hand froze.   
"Hey, what's that look for? I'm fine ok." Alan said. "See, all better."  
Eric nodded slowly. The flutters had returned full force. He was lucky that Alan had misinterpreted the reason for the reaction. Seriously, what was with Eric today? He decided to change the subject.   
"So, how do I get this up the stairs? You sure as hell aren't carrying anything." he patted the trolley like it was a fancy car.  
"You brought the whole thing?" Alan said. He grinned. "I thought I said you needed the tag on the bottom."  
"Better safe than sorry?" Eric offered. Alan laughed again, his voice already sounding stronger. Eric took this as a good sign.  
"Here." Alan knelt down and plucked a small chip off the underside of the trolley. "This is what we needed. We'll take this back to the office and analyze it there. I'm sure Mr. Spears can't hold the press off for much longer."  
"So what else do we do?" Eric asked.   
"Well Ronald and Grelle are checking up on the entrance, and Sascha should have downloaded the rest of the camera footage along with other witness statements." Alan said.  
"Damn, that little thing did all that by themself?"  
"Effective aren't they." Alan laughed. "We got lucky with that exchange program." At Eric's questioning look he continued. "There's a similar office in Germany. They struck a deal with us and we swapped operatives. We got Sascha, Rudgar and a few others."  
"That's so cool. The only German words I know are "nein" and "nazi" Eric said.   
"Ok, I don't think you'd do this, but don't call Rudgar a nazi." Alan said, suddenly serious.   
"Who's been doing that?"  
"Who do you think."   
"Oh. Bad Ron." Eric said. "I'll spray him with a spray bottle if he does it again."  
Alan snickered. "Sounds good."

"Are you ready?" Rudgar asked as Eric and Alan returned to the main area. Eric was thankful to see that there was only a faint chalk outline where the bodies had been.  
"Yes." Alan said. "How about you?"  
"We are finished." Rudgar said, looking over at Sascha and Othello. "Where are the other two?"  
"Oh shit, I forgot about them." Eric said. "They were looking for footprints. We found one near a basement window."  
"Impossible. The Demon leaves no evidence." Rudgar scoffed.   
"That's what we thought." Alan said. "But I think we're genuinely on to something."  
"Hey! Assholes!" Ronald came jogging over. "We found the window, no thanks to you."  
Grell was combing leaves out of her hair. "I'm going to kill you all slowly one by one."  
"Did you find anything?" Alan asked, ignoring the threat.   
Ronald held out his phone. "Boy did we ever."  
"Save it for the office." Mr. Spears rushed over. "We're leaving now. Press is coming in, so I hope you knuckleheads got all there was to get."  
"Of course we did! We're reliable knuckleheads." Ronald chirped. Mr Spears merely rolled his eyes.   
"Get in the cars. I'd hate to be the one who gets caught by those rabid camera wearing zombies."

The ride back to the office passed quickly. Eric found himself sitting with Ronald, who talked endlessly about the worst one night stand of his life. They had reached the part about the cops and the drugs that weren't his when they arrived.   
"To be continued." Ronald said, hopping out of the car. "You gotta see what we found."  
Eric followed Ronald back to the lounge area. Somehow Mr. Spears was already there, looking as impatient as ever.  
"About time. However, your performance today makes up for the lack of timeliness. I'm very impressed with the amount of information you lot managed to pull together today."  
"Yeah yeah, we're fucking gifted." Ronald said, waving his phone around. "Now check out my badassery!"   
Mr. Spears sighed. "Alright, we'll begin reviewing our information. I believe Mr. Knox would like to go first."  
"Damn right I do." Ronald said, lunging for the computer. After fiddling with cords, he finally hooked his phone up to it, displaying his phone's camera roll onto the larger screen.   
"Nice." Eric laughed. An image of Ronald stabbing a chia pet that resembled Mr. Spears was shown.   
"Fuck." Ronald said, quickly swiping the image away. "Um, you all saw nothing. Anyways..."  
"After Ronnie and I so valiantly left to track down that grimy little window, we got the idea to record ourselves so we could retrace our steps." Grelle jumped in. Ronald took that as his cue and hit the play button. 

Ronald's voice played with the video. "The wild Grelle treks across the Savannah. God it's ugly-hey!" Grelle tossed a stick back at Ronald.   
"Shut up Ronnie." Grelle sighed. "Where the fuck are we anyways?"  
"Dunno, Mr. Helpful Guard didn't exactly give me a map." Ronald said. "We could be in fucking France for all I know."  
"Oh yes, that's clearly a possibility." Grelle said.   
"Life's an adventure." Ronald said. The camera swung suddenly, focusing on one of the well groomed trees that lined the background. "I think I saw a squirrel."  
"Focus dammit!" Grelle said. "Damn, if I knew I was going hiking I would have worn shorter heels."  
"Yeah, the fuck's with all the trees?" Ronald asked. "This is London. Ooooh, Do you think we've stumbled across a wormhole?"  
"Oh of course, why didn't I think of that." Grelle said. "Ronnie if I had a pound for every time you said something dumb, I could retire by next wee-" Grelle's sentence was cut off by a shriek as she suddenly disappeared out of view.   
"Oh fuck, it is a wormhole." Ronald said, before dashing forward. "Shit, Grelle, you alive? What's the other dimension look like?"  
"Trashy." came Grelle's voice. The camera revealed a dip in the ground, hidden by the bushes as Ronald approached closer.   
"Damn, what's this doing here?" Ronald asked.   
"Having a party. I don't know Ronald, get down here."   
"Here." Ronald handed his phone to Grelle, who fumbled with it. The film cleared in time to see Ronald drop down into the dip which was about six feet deep.  
"I think I found the window." Grelle said, zooming in on the exterior of the window. It was wide open.   
"Were you videoing my ass a second ago?" Ronald asked, joining Grelle.  
"What ass Ronald?"  
"Ouch." Ronald took the phone back. "Hey is Eric and Alan still there?"  
"They should be. Hello?" Grelle waved her hand through the window.  
"Hey Grelle."  
"What now?"  
"Look."  
The camera shifted to show a bloodstained station uniform.  
"EW!" Grelle yelled. "Oh, whew, I thought it was a dead animal."  
"Isn't this worse?"  
"No." Grelle said, approaching the uniform. "I'll bet my next three paychecks that this blood is the victim's."  
"There's the print Eric saw." Ronald said, zooming in on the smudged mark.  
"The print was odd, but believable. But this?" Grelle said. "He's never left anything like this before."  
"Maybe he thought no one would find it?" Ronald offered, zooming in on the uniform.   
"That's a ballsy move." Grelle said.  
"Maybe he doesn't care." Ronald said. "He could be teasing us. This might not help us find him at all."  
"Oh, fuck it all." Grelle sighed. "Can't we just be positive."  
"I said that to you last Monday and you almost stabbed me."  
Grelle sighed again. "Ok, let's get this back to the others. Ugh, ew it's all stiff."  
She gingerly lifted it and placed it on top of the dip. "Give me a boost up Ronnie."  
"You mean those heels aren't high enough?" Despite the remark, the footage shook as Ronald presumably boosted Grelle up. It shook more as Ronald dragged himself out after.  
"This is almost creepy." Grelle said. "It feels like a trap. Why did our cleanly master criminal go so astray now?"  
"It's almost like he's here, watching us." Ronald said ominously.   
Grelle scanned the surrounding area, the camera following the sweep. "Thanks for that Ronald."  
"Yeah, sorry. I just freaked myself out."  
The footage ended there. 

"Tada!" Ronald and Grelle said together.  
Mr. Spears kept his stoic look, staying silent a moment longer. "Did the lab get the suit?" he finally asked.  
"Yup." Ronald said. "I'll pick up the results when they're in."  
Mr. Spears nodded. "Good. I'm not sure what this means exactly, but I feel it's important. How did you all come to find that dip anyways?"  
"Bats." Eric offered.   
"Grand Bat Master." Ronald added.   
"Angry evil bats." Grelle finished.  
Mr. Spears stared. "Alright then...Someone sure as hell better catch me up though. Why were you down there to begin with?"  
"Eric and I were following a lead he picked out." Alan explained. "It's quite brilliant really."  
"Well, you'll have to impress me then. As of now, brilliant isn't a word I'd use to describe Mr. Slingby."   
"Oooh, burn." Ronald laughed.   
"It's the last word I'd use for you, Knox."  
"Burn." Eric said, jabbing Ronald in the ribs.   
"Enough, both of you." Mr. Spears sighed. "Start at the beginning. Get comfortable, because no one leaves this room until we've gone over every scrap of information." he sat primly in a chair, the rest of the crew following suit.   
Ronald sighed. "My ass always falls asleep during these things."  
"Then we'll start with the shocking." Mr. Spears said. "Othello, please show us your findings."  
And just like that, Eric's decently good mood was ruined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok! There's the update! Hopefully I won't go this long without an update again. Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed!!


	9. 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update tiiiiime! I'm so happy for all the kudos, thank you guys so much!! (also mild g*re warning. Pls stay safe!!)

Othello stumbled slightly as he stood up and messed with the laptop, opening files. If Eric had to describe the young man before him, the first word he would have chosen would be "awkward." However, that all changed when the computer loaded and images appeared on the projector screen Othello had pulled down.   
"Oh god." Eric said, flinching.   
"Oh! You don't have to stay if you don't want to." Othello said. "Ronald didn't stick around the first few cases..."  
"He lies. I have a stomach of steel." Ronald said. "Hence why I ate that taco out of the trash-"  
"Knox, shut up before I lose even more respect for you." Mr. Spears sighed. "Slingby, stay or leave. Make your choice now."  
Eric chose to stay. "Yeah, I'll be alright. Gotta get used to this stuff, yeah?"  
Othello nodded. "That's the spirit! Anyways, if we're all ready..." he clicked on the first picture, blowing it up to the full size of the screen. "These are the before pictures. This was how the bodies were found, give or take some minor rigor mortis. As you can see they were thoroughly mutilated, although the full extent can't be seen from the outside."  
As he spoke, the slightly nervous young man transformed into a calm and well trained professional.   
Othello clicked to the next picture, a close up of the female. "Victim one was found with her eyes closed. Upon opening them, both were clouded with blood, hinting at intense trauma to the head or nerves."  
Eric winced. The woman's eyes were an inky, almost black with a tinge of red. Alan placed a hand on his shoulder.   
"This differs from victim two." Othello said, clicking again. "Also found with his eyes closed. However upon opening them, one eye was intact, the other missing, or so we thought."  
The male victim had one glassy blue eye and a gaping hole. Despite the missing eye, Eric still had the unsettling feeling that the man was staring right at him.   
"Did you recover the eye?" Mr. Spears asked. He sounded casual, as if the team were discussing the weather.   
"Yes. It was in his mouth."  
"What the fuck?!" Eric blurted. "Why?!"  
"To shock us most likely. The Demon likes to add little grotesque details, most likely to fuel his image of an inhuman monster." Othello said. "Additionally, the eye damage isn't consistent across the previous victims. It's not a signature. Sometimes he knocks them around enough to get that result, sometimes not."  
Eric grimaced. "Well isn't that just cheerful."  
"I'll go through the rest of the external quickly." Othello said, giving him a sympathetic glance. "Anyways, bruising over both bodies, mainly defensive wounds. They most likely injured themselves trying to escape. The woman has three broken ribs and a broken wrist. The man has a broken nose and a fractured kneecap." He switched to a picture of both victims laid out together. "Aside from the eye, no parts were removed. As you can see, there are approximately seventy two sigils carved on the bodies. I've sent in individual pictures of all of them to the labs to see if any of the sigils were on other victims."  
"So that's what killed them?" Eric asked.  
"No." Othello said. "They're fairly shallow cuts. Not meant to kill them. If the victims had lived, they would heal into fairly prominent scars. Due to the bleeding and partial scabbing of some of the older markings, these were most certainly applied while they were still alive."  
"Christ on a log." Eric muttered.   
Othello switched to a pair of pictures lined up side by side. One was of the male victim's stomach, the other was of the female victim's stomach. Both had a thin line of stitches running down them.   
"As you can see here, there are stitches. They're very very tidy, very professional. The Demon knew what he was doing. He sewed them up like torn clothes. You have to look closely to see them. I had to cut the stitches to get into them, but I sent what I could get of the string into the lab for analysis."  
"Wait...In them?" Eric asked slowly.   
"Um, yes." The nervous demeanor made a quick reappearance. "I've gone over the external. Now I have some things to show about the internal."  
"Eric, darling, you don't have to stay." Grelle said. "We get it, it's a lot. We've had time to get used to it. I don't think any of our first cases were as bloody as this."  
"No, I'm ok. Keep going." Eric said.   
Othello nodded, and switched to the next image. Eric's stomach clenched. Othello had cut along the stitches, separating the body cavity. The skin pulled away in two massive flaps. Every inch of the interior were also carved with sigils.  
"He decorated the insides too. I believe the victims were also alive for this. The outer markings came after these ones. The illustrations cover the interior of the chest and stomach. He avoids any important organs, focusing on muscle tissue and nervous tissue."  
"How did this not kill them?" Eric asked.  
"Well, like I said, he left the important stuff alone. He didn't inflict any strictly life threatening wounds. Without proper medical treatment, yes this would have killed them, but not quickly. It was excruciatingly painful, but not deadly."  
Eric clenched his hands into fists. What kind of person did that to another human? The killer's nickname fit him well. His actions were grotesque and monstrous.   
"There's nothing else incredibly important to show, although I do have pictures." Othello said, eyeing Eric.   
"Very well." Mr. Spears said. "Continue onto cause of death."  
"Alright." Othello switched to a close up picture of a tiny pinprick. "This is victim A. Behind her right ear was a very, very small needle mark. The same mark can be found behind the left ear of victim B. Judging by some quick bloodwork I did, I think I know how they died."   
Eric nodded slowly. He felt Alan squeeze his shoulder gently.  
"Judging by the mirrored position of the marks, I believe the Demon had them inject each other with a quick acting neurotoxin. I have chemical reports on the way." Othello added. "The toxin spreads throughout the body, shutting down functions one by one. The first to go is the nervous system. The victims would have felt no pain, which seems odd for such an obvious masochist. However I believe he needed this to move the bodies. They would be rendered paralyzed. If I had to wager a guess, they were laid in that spot while still alive."  
"Damn, for real?" Ronald swore. "If someone found them sooner, could they have lived?"  
Othello shook his head. "No, they were dead the moment the needle pierced their flesh. They were barely alive when dumped. The final stage of hallucinations and asphyxiation would have begun by then. Perhaps the Demon did not inflict any physical pain for their last wounds, but I'm sure their deaths were excruciating." He flipped to a picture of the victim's hands, inches apart. "If they were just a little closer, they could have reached each other. He placed their hands like this, just out of reach of the other. They died together, yet so far apart."  
Eric thought he saw Grelle wipe the corner of her eye.   
"I see." Mr. Spears said. "Do you have a timeline?"  
"Yes." Othello said. "I believe this toxin takes a total of four hours to kill. The paralysis begins two hours after injection. Total paralysis takes place after two and a half hours. I'm not sure if he waited for that though. Um, anyways, the bodies were found at two forty five in the afternoon. They died that same day, since they were left on the floor alive. My estimate is that they were dead for forty five minutes before they were found. They were in the station for as long as two hours and forty five minutes, or as short as potentially one hour to fifty minutes."  
Mr. Spears nodded once more. "Very well. Excellent work. Get the lab results on my desk as soon as possible. Will you be performing a more in depth autopsy?"  
"I believe so. I sent DNA to the lab as well, but I do want to do my very best to get their identities. I also might try and restore them a bit. I'll investigate more, but I don't believe I'll find anything else. The demon's most important work is always skin deep. Literally in many cases. He wouldn't leave something that's terribly hard to find on a victim. He wants his work known." Othello said. The professional demeanor faded away completely now, and he awkwardly shifted his weight. "So, um, that's all. I'll be going to the lab now. Give me a report on what else you have. I hope I was able to give some important information." With that he quickly stepped out of the room, head down.  
"Is he alright?" Eric asked, watching him go.  
Grelle nodded. "Poor dear gets a little self conscious. There was a bit of an issue with a past manager and completely bullshitted claims of...well, not a nice story. He's more comfortable around the dead than the living. He's a sweetheart really, just not the most social."  
"Well, he must be amazing at what he does." Eric said. "I'd never know how to look for any of that."  
Mr. Spears nodded. "He does good work for us, rumors or not. However, that is not important at this time. I suggest we take a short break before returning to compare other evidence to our timeframe."  
"So we work off of that?" Eric asked. "Should we wait for a more detailed report?"  
"The official report is for the police." Mr. Spears said. "We work quickly. Every moment we spend making our reports look fancy is another moment where a criminal walks free. Othello's estimates have never been wrong before. I trust his work."  
Eric nodded. "Yeah. That's fair."  
"Since we're so far behind the Demon, we try to go quickly to catch up to him. He could be planning or performing another murder in the time it takes for us to decipher the previous one."  
"Speed. We are speed. Kachow." Ronald said solemnly.   
Mr Spears rolled his eyes. "And on that note, take a break. Come back in five minutes. Anyone who is late will be locked out of the room and given janitorial duty."  
"He's the real criminal." Ronald whispered to Eric as he headed out the door. Eric was about to follow suit, turning back to Mr. Spears. The supervisor showed no interest in taking the break. Instead he began to go back through the pictures, teeth clenching, eyes remorseful. Eric felt as if he had walked in on something private, and quickly hurried out. That was the first time he had seen Mr. Spears' cold exterior slip, and it was more melancholy than Eric had ever expected. 

The five minute break passed in awkward silence. Eric noticed that the rest of his team preferred to process the grotesque happenings in silence. Even Ronald was fairly quiet, only making a few jokes.   
"Doing alright?" Alan asked him quietly.   
"Yeah, I don't know. Guess I never really thought about how disturbing this all gets. It's not like TV. People actually do these things. Jesus, how can a person do these things?"  
"Some people are just evil." Alan said. "We can't change what already happened. The best thing we can do is take what we can get from these victims and use it to put the bastard away. I know, I sound robotic. I promise I feel-"  
"You don't gotta explain. I know you do." Eric said. "You're really amazing you know. You keep all of us together. Thanks."  
"I didn't really do anything." Alan said, shrugging. "I've never been able to do enough. I never will. I don't have the time or the ability. Ah, I'm sorry. We don't need to talk about me." Alan said apologetically.   
"Hey, it's ok. I'm obviously no therapist, and I'll be the first to admit I'm kind of awful with feelings, but if you ever need to talk, I promise to listen and help if you want. Take it or leave it I guess."  
Alan smiled. "Thank you Eric. That means a lot to me, truly."  
Eric smiled back, before nearly being knocked over by Ronald. "JESUS!"  
"SORRY! Oh hey, what're you doing out here. Sweet! We'll all be locked out together!"  
"We have two minutes left Ronald." Alan said.  
"What? Really? Oh." He tapped his watch. "My watch is fast."  
"Do you have a list of hit and run victims or something?" Eric said, putting Ronald in a chokehold and playfully messing up his hair.   
"Hey! Ack! Watch the hair! Help! Assault!" Ronald yelped, laughing. When Eric finally released him, his hair was sticking up in several different directions. "Wow, thanks."  
"No problem. Shall we?" Eric asked, gesturing to the lounge area.   
"We shall." Alan said. Ronald gave a mock bow and the three returned to Mr. Spears. 

"Judging by Knox's hair, I assume you had a good time." Mr. Spears said. He hadn't moved from his chair.  
"Yeah, real party out there." Ronald said, slumping into his chair. "Alright, let's do this shit!"  
"Language."  
"Sascha, what's let's do this shit in German?"  
"Knox. Enough."   
"Sorry Sir."  
With that, it was back to business. Othello hadn't returned, and Eric doubted that he would.   
"Alright." Mr. Spears said. "I've taken a moment to review more information briefly in order to find the best way to direct this conversation. Mr. Slinby, I'm impressed. I believe you may have tugged the right seam to unravel this."  
"Really?" Eric asked. "You're joking right?"  
"I don't joke." Mr. Spears said seriously. "How about you tell us about your findings?"  
"Right then, uh, do I stand up? Yeah, ok." Eric stood, looking around the room. "So I was thinking about how he got two bodies in the middle of that station without being seen, and I saw a few trolleys that were left out. Those buggers can carry a lot, say a couple of bodies in a bag? I thought it was nothing, but Alan had us follow up."  
"Continue." Mr. Spears said. Ronald gave him a cheerful thumbs up.   
"Right, so we took a look at the security footage all around the area where the bodies were found. Come to think of it, we didn't actually see when they were dropped, but we saw a trolley that crossed through the area a bunch. The same trolley had the same bags on it. I think that's weird." Eric finished awkwardly.  
"True! I worked there once." Grelle jumped in. "You take the bags to one place and drop them. No return trips."  
"Right, so he was scoping the area." Eric said. "We went to the storeroom where they tossed the trolleys...wait sorry, first we threatened a guard...wait that's not important. Uh, sorry."  
Mr. Spears raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything.   
"You're doing just fine." Alan said softly.   
"Yeah, so we were told by a guard that the trolleys have tags on them. Little electric thingies that track their locations. So we headed down to the storeroom to grab the tag. It was trolley thirteen. We got the password for the tracking software too...anyways. There was an issue with some bats, and we found the footprint. I opened that window to let said bats out, and it had been used recently."  
"Like our video." Ronald spoke up. "That's when Grelle and I went to find the window from the outside. It was super hard to find. I doubt anyone knew it was there, aside for our killer friend maybe."  
"They stopped by me to mention the store room." Rudgar said. "I examined the floor plans for the building. Neither the store room or window were included."  
"Wait. Apologies, but how did they know to put the...the trolleys? Is that right?" After getting a nod of approval from Ronald, Sascha continued. "How did they know to put the trolleys in there?"  
"Solid question." Ronald said. "The guard knew where it was. Maybe they knew it was there? It just wasn't on the plans?"  
Mr. Spears wrote down something on the notepad. "We will ask that on our follow up visit to some of the witnesses."  
"Ok. Anyways, we think the Demon entered and exited from the window in the store room. He used some empty bags to transport the bodies and used trolley thirteen to move them around. I guess that's all I got." Eric sat down quickly.  
"That's actually quite a lot for a case like this." Mr. Spears said. He nodded approvingly. "Excellent work. The theory works with the information gained from the bodies. I believe that he mutilated the victims outside of the station, and brought them there once paralyzed. They could still be transported in the bags if they were still alive. It does fit. My only complaint is that you didn't watch the footage all the way through."  
"In his defense, I'd guess that the cameras would cut out oh so helpfully at the time of the dump." Grelle shrugged. "It's happened before."  
"If you're looking to get Mr. Slingby a gold star, I promise I can find many errors in his conduct." Mr. Spears said sternly. "However, yes, I am quite pleased with this. Excellent work everyone."  
"So...now what?" Eric asked.  
"We have a working theory that lines up with the time of death." Rudgar said. "We now examine it."  
"Cross the I's and dot the T's!" Sascha said cheerfully.   
"Other way around darling." Grelle corrected.   
"Now we move forward." Mr. Spears said, looking at the clock. "We still have plenty of time left in the work day. Sascha, go assist Othello. Rudgar and Alan will analyze security footage and the data contained on the tag. I will compile the official report. Knox, Sutcliffe, Slingby, I have a list of witnesses and questions. You will find these individuals and question them."  
"I'll get my knife." Ronald said.  
"Not funny Knox."  
"Aw, c'mon, it's a little funny."  
"Speaking of..." Mr. Spears turned to Eric. "I did hear about your little stunt with the guard."  
"Alright, who's the tattle tale?" Ronald said, crossing his arms. Rudgar stared him down and Ronald backed off.   
"I am told there was some comedic timing to it, and he was being uncooperative. Since you do not know our conduct, I will let it go this once. Do keep in mind that threatening witnesses with dismemberment is not typical of us."  
Eric relaxed. "Right, yes sir. No dismembering the victims."  
Grelle snickered.   
"No murder." Mr. Spears sighed. "What are you all still doing here? Get to work."

"So I think we should still threaten him with murder." Ronald said cheerfully. "What Mr. Spears doesn't know can't hurt him."  
"Mr. Spears sees all, knows all." Eric said in a mysterious voice.   
Ronald snorted. "You know, I believe that. He always knows when I'm even thinking of ditching work."  
"William the psychic." Grelle mused. "Ooh, that sounds sexy!"  
"Ew." Ronald and Eric said together.  
"So what's your deal with him anyways?" Eric said. "I didn't know he had a first name. I thought he just came into this world as Mr. Spears." that sent Ronald into hysterics.   
"We were hired around the same time." Grelle said. "I know, I know, it's destiny!"  
"Yeah, destiny." Ronald said. "Clearly. I've never seen such destined destiny in all of my life."  
"Shut up Ronnie." Grelle said. "You've never been in love. You've never felt the urge to give yourself entirely to another person and dedicate your life to loving them and only them!"  
"Sure I haven't. Speaking of, Eric will you marry me?"  
"Sure."  
"There, see! And you said I don't know the meaning of love."  
Grelle rolled her eyes. "Wow, that was so romantic I think I'm going to cry."  
"C'mon honey." Ronald said, winking at Eric. Eric swatted at him and the faux blonde danced away, cackling.   
"Alright. Let's hear it." Grelle said. "Come on, let the heckling begin."  
Eric shook his head. "Nah. I know what you mean. I thought I had that with someone. Didn't work out."  
"Oh honey, I'm sorry." Grelle said. "If you want to talk about it, I'm here. Who ended it? You or him?"  
"Him?" Eric asked. "It was a her. And I ended it."  
"Oh! I thought...never mind. She's missing out." Grelle said. "If you were unhappy, then you made the right choice. Judging on the look on your face, you weren't very happy at all."  
"Yeah. It got messy." Eric said.   
"Scale of one to framed for assault so she can take the dog?"  
"That actually happened. Not like that and we didn't have a dog, but...yeah."  
Grelle's eyes widened. "Oh, disgusting. Fakers are the worst. Darling, you deserve so much better. Call me crazy, but I sense a fellow romantic in you. I know you'll find the partner you're looking for darling. In the mean time...we'll wingman or woman for each other!"  
Eric grinned. "Sounds good. Oh, speaking of, I'm really sorry about staring at your chest."  
Grelle waved the apology off. "It's nothing darling. You didn't mean any harm. Ronald nearly killed you. It's ok. You're not one of the creepers."  
"Good." Eric said. "Wait, why'd you think it was a guy?"  
"No reason." Grelle said innocently.   
"Bullshit! I-"  
"Hey asshats! I'm getting bored!" Ronald yelled from the car. "I call shotgun by the way!"  
"I pity whoever our driver is." Grelle said. "Well, let's go witness his suffering!" Grelle looped her arm through Eric's chattering about some drama in the office. Despite having a mild crisis on whether or not he appeared to be gay, Eric felt content. Sure, the macabre corpses weren't happy day material, but here Eric was, feeling all mushy again.   
He had more friends now. Wow, that really was mushy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty, there's the chapter! Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed. I'll try to be back soon with the next chapter. I hope everyone reading this has a lovely day!!


	10. 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for another late update! I'm kind of a mess XD
> 
> Anyways, sorry again, and I hope you enjoy the chapter!

The guard's eyes almost bugged out of his head. "Oh no, not you again."  
"Us again!" Ronald cheered. The trio had cornered him at a downtown bar after hearing that he had gone on break. "So you wanna buy a round?" Grelle smiled brightly, showing off her scissors.  
The guard grimaced and nodded, stomping off to get drinks.  
"So now we're bullying a witness for alcohol." Eric said. "Spears better not hear about this."  
"Hey, I'm no criminal." Ronald said. "I'll buy the next round. Just wanna make this enjoyable for everyone, y'know?"  
"So drinking on the job doesn't matter for us?" Eric asked.  
"Keep your wits about you and it's fine." Grelle shrugged. "I'm sure as hell not carrying you out of here if you get wasted."  
Eric grinned. "Don't worry, I can handle my liquor." In reality, he hadn't had a drink in years.  
"Alright, here." the guard said, grudgingly passing around the pints. "Now tell me what you want so we can get this over with and you can go away."  
"We just have a few questions for you!" Ronald said brightly, slapping the guard on the back like they were old friends. "That's not too much to ask, is it?"  
"Depends on the questions." The guard grumbled.  
"Well, let's get into it then." Grelle said, flipping open a notebook. Eric could see notes scrawled in red pen in curly handwriting. Little hearts decorated the page. "So dear, how exactly did you know where to put the trolleys?"  
"What now?"  
"The trolleys." Grelle said patiently. "You put most of them in a storeroom that hadn't been used for years, and that isn't on the blueprints. How'd you know it was there?"  
The guard raised an eyebrow. "That's your question?"  
"One of them." Grelle said, giving him a dangerous smile. "And I do suggest you answer it."  
The guard swallowed hard before speaking. "I dunno, I've only been working there for half a year. I had no idea it was there either."  
"But you learned." Ronald said. "Who told?"  
"No one." The guard said. "I followed some bloke down there. He was pushing a trolley down there, and when we got the orders to clear the place out, I had everyone move em in there."  
"Who'd you follow down there?" Eric asked.  
The guard only shrugged. "I dunno mate. There's over a thousand employees. I only know a hundred at most."  
"Can you describe him?" Grelle asked, clicking her pen in anticipation.  
"I never saw his face." The guard said. "But he was tall."  
"Eric stand up." Ronald said. "Was he taller or shorter than Eric?"  
The guard examined Eric as he stood. "He was pretty tall like your friend here. But he was skinny. Very skinny. And pale."  
"So it was the slenderman." Grelle said, writing something down. Eric snorted and she gave him a wink.  
The guard was not amused. "Are you people professionals or not? It wasn't the fucking slenderman. The slenderman doesn't have hair."  
"And this guy did?" Ronald asked. "What color? Style?"  
"Dark hair, longish." The guard said, gesturing to his chin. "Maybe a little longer than this."  
"Did you ever see a face?" Eric asked.  
The guard shook his head. "No. I just saw him walk by. He was going pretty fast. Kind of a messy bastard too. I saw he was wearing gloves but his uniform was a mess. It looked like it was covered in spaghetti sauce or something."  
Ronald, Eric and Grelle all exchanged a look.  
"Why don't you get us another round?" Ronald said, passing the guard some money. The guard nodded, seeming grateful for the break. Once he was gone, the three leaned in closer, trying to keep their conversation quiet.  
"So this idiot saw the demon walking by and didn't notice?" Eric asked.  
"I guess not." Ronald said, shrugging.  
"I think he threw a massive wrench in the demon's plans." Eric said. "I'm guessing he never meant to tip anyone off about the storeroom. He was probably trying to stash the cart in there so it would never be found again. That means finding the tag alone gives us a massive leg up."  
"And the bloody uniform." Grelle said. "No wonder he left it. He didn't expect anyone to find it."  
"That still seems sloppy." Ronald countered. "So he was just banking on the fact that no one would find a whole room?"  
"It isn't on the blueprints." Grelle argued. "Maybe he felt safe. "We really only found the window on accident. I'm not the one who's going to tell Mr. Spears that by the way."  
Something tickled in the back of Eric's mind. It was something Ronald had said earlier. "Ron, what did you say about the demon earlier?"  
"Uh, damn, I don't know." Ronald said. "I say a lot of things. I don't really remember what it is I say exactly."  
Eric stared into the dark wood of the table, trying to dredge up the thought. The guard returned, thunking the pints down. Eric hoped no one noticed that he hadn't touched his first one.  
"So do you people have a schedule? Or do you buy all your witnesses drinks?" The guard asked. He seemed more comfortable.  
"Schedule!" Eric blurted, making the other three jump. "That's what you said. Something about him having a schedule!"  
"What? The demon? I was being sarcastic. I think master killers make their own schedules." Ronald said.  
"But what if it wasn't sarcasm!"  
"Mate, eighty percent of the things I say are sarcasm. Of course it was."  
"No! What if the demon really had a schedule?" Eric asked. "Maybe he has a job or something? Or a date?"  
"The mass murderer had a date." Grelle said skeptically.  
"Yes! No! The point is he was on a schedule. He didn't have the time to do everything the way he wanted to. He had to do the best with what he had. That's got to be why he was forced to get a little messy. It wouldn't have been a big deal, except the guard saw him!"  
"I have a name." The guard said meekly.  
"I'm sure you do." Eric said, patting his shoulder before continuing. "But think about it! He was on a tight time frame. Maybe he didn't fully realize how long a double murder would take and he got thrown off."  
"So now you're saying he's always been on a schedule?" Ronald asked.  
"Yeah, I guess I am."  
"Well, you haven't been wrong so far. I'm willing to give it a shot." Grelle said, writing "Schedule?" in loopy red letters.  
"So I can go now?" the guard asked, looking hopeful.  
"Nope! That was just one question." Grelle said, patting his hand. "We have quite a few more dear."  
The guard's hope drained out of his eyes. "Fine."  
"Don't look so down!" Ronald cheered. "Another round!"

"Well that was a massive waste of time." Grelle said. "He works there six months, becomes head of security, but doesn't know jack shit about the building or the majority of his co-workers!"  
"Hey, it's not all bad. We did get some good stuff." Eric said.  
"And alcohol." Ronald added, grinning.  
"And more chores." Grelle sighed. She had written down a list of names the guard had given them. "More people to talk to. Oh joy."  
"You two are actually pretty good at this." Eric said.  
"Of course we are. We're professionals." Grelle said.  
"I mean it, you guys were so natural."  
"Oh wow, we're good at talking. Stop the presses." Ronald laughed.  
"Oh for fuck's sake. Take the compliment." Eric said, swatting at him. "Where to next?"  
"Oh, I don't know." Grelle sighed, holding out the list of names to him. "Who seems like the least painful to talk to?"  
"Definitely Cynthia Everbottom." Ronald said. "I have a good feeling about that one."  
Grelle rolled her eyes. "Well then, if no one else has any good ideas. It's not like Mr. Spears will let us back in the building until we're done."  
"Let's get to it then." Eric said. Unlike the other two, he wasn't bothered by the prospect of more work. He had a feeling that they were on the verge of something big. Maybe it was just hope, but Eric couldn't shake the gut feeling. 

It turned out Cynthia Everbottom was an eighty three year old woman. She was the wife of the most recent owner of the station, who had passed away three years ago. Despite being eighty three, Mrs. Everbottom was as sharp as anyone Eric had ever seen. He'd taken a liking to her instantly.  
"So you've never seen that store room?" Eric asked.  
The old woman shook her head. "I'm afraid not. I knew there was a basement level, but I didn't know what was down there."  
Eric nodded. Ronald however, spoke up. "Hold on, there's no basement level on the blueprints."  
The old woman nodded. "That's correct. They are down there though. They aren't used so I assumed it was alright if they weren't included on the new blueprints. If anything, my husband was thinking about breaking them down and filling them in."  
"So your husband knew about the basement level too." Grelle said. "Did anyone else?"  
"I'm not sure what you mean."  
"Did you tell anyone else about the basement level?" Ronald asked, shoving his eighth biscuit into his mouth. (Mrs. Everbottom had been kind enough to offer snacks, something Ronald was taking full advantage of.)  
"I suppose not. There's Flora, my niece, but I suppose that's it...oh! No, there was a potential buyer who I spoke briefly about it to."  
"Buyer? The station's for sale?"  
"Yes." Mrs. Everbottom nodded gravely. "It's available for new management. I'm far too old, and my niece has no interest in it. We haven't got many offers sadly, except for the one, although I fear that's fallen through."  
"Who was the buyer?" Grelle asked. "Will they contact you again? Where and when?"  
The old woman shook her head once more. "They never called back after the initial meeting. I've reached out, but gotten nothing."  
"Ok, but who was it?" Ronald asked.  
"Fun Mutt Tofu."  
The trio stared at Mrs. Everbottom. "Come again?" Eric asked.  
"I know how ridiculous it sounds, but that's the name they gave. I was sent a business card and everything. I know, I hardly did the research I should, but I'm quite tired." She sighed. "I just want the damn station off my hands."  
Grelle patted her shoulder. "Perfectly understandable. Could we please see the business card?"  
"And more biscuits!" Ronald chimed in.  
Mrs. Everbottom chuckled. "I like that one."

Ronald would have happily stayed longer, but a short phone call from Mr. Spears ended those plans. All the supervisor had said was "return as soon as possible" no one aside from Ronald thought delicious biscuits was a good reason to be late.  
Rudgar was waiting for them when they arrived at the office.  
"Is something wrong?" Grelle asked, sounding slightly nervous.  
"Come with me please." Rudgar said. "And by god, behave yourselves."  
The elevator ride was tense and awkward. "Has anything like this ever happened before?" Eric whispered to Ronald.  
The faux blonde shrugged. "I dunno. The last time this happened-" The elevator doors slid open, revealing...a shabby old man. Eric stared, glancing at his coworkers, only to be surprised. Grelle, Ronald and Rudgar had straightened up, looking more professional than ever. Eric peeked behind the old man to see if there was anything important.  
Grelle elbowed him sharply. "Show some respect dammit!"  
"Respect to who?" Eric asked.  
The old man let out an eerie cackle. "To me of course!" he took Eric's hand in his own, cold, scarred ones. Eric glanced at his strangely long fingernails, before glancing back at his friends.  
"Don't look at them dearie, look at me." The man carefully guided Eric's chin back until Eric was staring into where his eyes would be, had they not been covered by silver bangs. "I've been wanting to meet you."  
"It's a pleasure. Who the fuck are you?" Eric said nervously. He saw Rudgar flinch.  
The old man however, burst out into laughter. Eric was convinced he was having a stroke, until the old man wiped his eyes. "Oh, I really like you. Do you really not know who I am?"  
"Elon Musk?" Eric guessed, sending the old man into hysterics.  
"No, no, no. I'm Adrian Crevan, but please, call me the Undertaker."  
Eric started. "Shit! I mean, sorry! Sorry sir!" having no idea what else to do, he saluted.  
"Oh please, drop the formalities. You and I are going to have a little chat." The Undertaker seized his arm, and pulled him towards an empty office. Eric looked back at his friends desperately, but none of them moved to help. Before he knew it, he was locked in with the Undertaker. 

"Since you clearly don't know who I am, let's get to know each other." The Undertaker said, clasping his hands together. "Do you know why I'm called the Undertaker?"  
Eric looked him up and down. "Because you look like a corpse?"  
Once again, the Undertaker broke into hysterical laughter. Once he calmed, he spoke. "No, although I suppose that's a fair guess. It's because I prepare every murder victim for their funerals. I take their bodies and make them beautiful again. Sure, some others aid me in my work, but not a body leaves this building without passing through my hands."  
Eric nodded. "Cool." he had no idea what else to say.  
"Do you know why I created this agency?"  
"No." Eric said.  
"No? No more funny guesses? Come now, I know you can say something witty."  
Eric raised his eyebrow. Someone was asking him to sass off? "Well, ok then. You asked for it. I'm gonna say you didn't have any luck on dating sites so you opened this joint to ring in some hot lady detectives. And if they didn't wanna date you, you'd just make them disappear."  
The Undertaker roared with laughter, despite Eric thinking that what he said hadn't been that funny. "Oh, you truly are hilarious. Your guess was close."  
Eric stared at him. In what universe was that guess close?  
"I had no luck with life. With the injustice that went by. Monsters lurking in the shadows with no one to stop them. Year after year, bodies and cold cases piled up. What kind of world is a world with no punishment? No justice? We work to restore the balance. If our victims now reside in heaven, we will send our murderers to hell."  
Eric nodded slowly. So this was the legendary Adrian Crevan. He was a mystery to the public. A shadow, a myth. A legendary detective who had solved thirteen cases in one night, and built up his legacy the next morning. Eric had to say something. This man was practically his hero.  
"How old are you?" Eric asked. Once again, he mentally kicked himself. It would have been less embarrassing to ask for an autograph.  
"How old do you think?" The Undertaker asked.  
"Uh...ninety?" Eric asked.  
The undertaker leaned in close to him, lifting up his bangs, revealing cool, green eyes. His face was almost transformed into something smooth and inhuman. Ageless. Now he looked only a few years older than Eric. Definitely not out of his twenties.  
The Undertaker snickered at Eric's reaction, and the bangs fell back across his face and he laughed. "Oh, I love doing that. It never gets old!" He composed himself once more before turning to Eric. "How goes the case? It's been a while since a newbie worked on one this serious. Any new clues?"  
"Fun Mutt Tofu." Eric said, trying to keep a straight face. Strangely enough though, this time the Undertaker didn't laugh. He didn't even smile.  
"Oh? How curious. And you kept that as a clue?"  
Eric shrugged, feeling his face burn. "Yeah, guess I did. Should I have not?"

"Oh no! No, you've done wonderfully. Sometimes the ridiculous isn't even considered in these kinds of things. It's almost saddening. So many clues missed by the closed mindedness of those looking for them."  
"So...I did a good thing?" Eric asked slowly. It was hard to keep up while speaking to the Undertaker.  
"Oh yes, you've done very well. You're the first new hire we've had in two years. I don't hire someone unless I like them. It was a bit of a gamble, hiring you without taking the time to meet you, but I got the most delightful feeling when I heard your name."  
Eric must have made a face because once again, the Undertaker collapsed into laughter.  
"Oh, perish the thought. I'm far too old for you." he snickered. "I trust my instincts. Always have, always will. My instincts told me that you were the kind of person we needed, and it seems I was right." he patted Eric on the shoulder. "Keep up the work. This case is of a personal interest to me. I'll be watching you." Without another word, the Undertaker strode out of the office, leaving Eric alone with his thoughts and his deep confusion. 

"He's alive!" Ronald cheered, once Eric returned to them. "What was that about?"  
Eric shook his head, still trying to make sense of the encounter. "I dunno honestly. He said that I was the first new hire in two years, and I'm doing a good job or something. And that this case is interesting to him."  
Rudgar made a noise of disapproval. "I doubt it. The Undertaker has not shown a specific interest in a case for over a decade."  
"Mate, why would I lie?" Eric said. "I seriously have no idea what happened in there. First I thought he was old, and then he looked young, and then he said he was too old to date me-"  
"I'm sorry, what?" Ronald snickered. "What was that last part?"  
"It doesn't matter." Eric said. He felt uneasy.   
Grelle patted his shoulder. "Don't worry. You'll feel better soon." She leaned in closer and whispered, "I've seen his eyes too."  
Eric looked at her. Grelle mouthed the words "talk later" before turning back to Ronald and Rudgar.   
"Well this has been truly excited, but were we called back just for that?"  
Rudgar shook his head. "No. Hardly. We had a breakthrough. The Undertaker merely showed up saying he'd like to speak with you."  
"Exciting." Ronald said, poking Eric on the shoulder.   
"It was. He burst out of the closet, yelling surprise, nearly giving Mr. Spears a heart attack." Rudgar said calmly, like this sort of thing was perfectly normal.   
"What?" Eric asked. "So he was just hiding in a closet?"  
"He likes to do that." Grelle said, shrugging. "He's always loved dramatic entrances."  
"And this man is both the founder of this damn place, and my boss?" Eric asked incredulously.   
"I had the same thoughts." Rudgar said. "I was in shock over the clownish actions of the man I was instructed to follow under. It seemed like a poorly thought out joke. However, I assure you, as odd as he is, the man is as great as legend says."  
"Count yourself lucky mate." Ronald said. "He gave up public appearances years ago. You just got some VIP access."  
Eric nodded slowly. He wasn't sure what he had expected Adrian Crevan to be like. Maybe something like Mr. Spears, or Sherlock Holmes. The truth was far more bizarre than anything he could have imagined. But maybe there was a method to his madness. He had taken Eric's seemingly ridiculous clue seriously. Or maybe he had been joking. Eric couldn't tell. Either way, the Undertaker had made it clear that this case was of interest. Regardless of what Rudgar had said, Eric believed that the old man was genuinely interested. If he was an old man. Damn, Eric's head hurt trying to think about this.   
Meeting his hero had never been on Eric's list of things he thought would happen. If anything, the Undertaker was a physical manifestation of the strangeness that his life had become. He was now in London, working on a high profile murder case. Maybe the Undertaker was the least strange part about it.  
...No, he was probably the strangest part. No matter how hard Eric tried, he couldn't normalize the strange man.  
But he was watching Eric now. He was interested, and odd or not, Eric was going to try his hardest to impress him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright! There we are. I've never written for the Undertaker much, so I hope I did ok. Sorry, no Alan in this chapter. He'll be back though!
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoyed. I hope everyone reading this has a lovely day!!


	11. 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Laaaaaate update again, I'm the worst!!!  
> My schedule changed recently and I'm trying to get organized. Why am I a failure XD  
> Anyways, I hope you enjoy the new chapter!!

"It seems Mr. Slingby was correct." Mr. Spears said, adjusting his spectacles. The team had reassembled in the lounge, and were examining a laptop which contained the data taken from the tag from the trolley.  
"Holy shit, I was?" Eric asked.  
"Language Mr. Slingby."  
"FUCK YEAH ERIC!" Ronald yelled, slapping Eric on the shoulder.  
"LANGUAGE MR. KNOX!"  
"My bad."  
Mr. Spears sighed heavily, as if the presence of his team was draining upon his life force. He looked around the room slowly, and finally, upon deciding that his team was ready to be professional, continued speaking.  
"As I said, Slingby's theory was correct. The cart followed a normal route until the beginning of the estimated time slot. Then it made a strange looping route, crossing over the location of the body dump multiple times. Upon scanning the data, the abnormality can be seen, however we will be moving on. We can confirm that the trolley was indeed taken to transport the bodies by the Demon upon entering the building via the window in the store room."  
"Excellent job." Alan said, just soft enough for only Eric to hear. The mild praise made Eric feel better than anything had in a long time.  
"So, case closed?" Ronald said sarcastically.  
Mr. Spears ignored him, as per usual. "Additionally, we can also confirm that the victims were alive upon entering the station, and were indeed in the bag Mr. Slingby identified. Finally, we can confirm that the knowledge of the storeroom was exposed by the Demon himself as he was trying to escape. While the precise method of dumping the body is still unknown, I believe we have given adequate attention to this crime scene. It can do no more for us. We will return it to the local jurisdiction to fill in the blanks."  
"Was there any DNA evidence on the bloody suit?" Eric asked.  
Othello shook his head. "No, sorry, but I did get a result for the string, the thread that was used to sew up the bodies, as well as some information about the sigils."  
"Do share." Mr. Spears said, leaning against a wall and crossing his arms.  
"Well, the silk comes from a silkworm. Very pure, very fresh, and a very old method. Back in the early days of surgery, the body cavity would be filled with maggots to prevent-"  
"Mate! I just ate!" Ronald said.  
Othello flushed. "Um, anyways it's an old practice with an old, pure, hard to come by substance. Additionally, the sigils are from a variety of cultures, but they all have one overlap. They're all involved with demons in some way. Some are for summoning, others for sacrificing, but they all fall under demonic purposes."  
"Well, that's weird." Ronald said, voicing what they all were thinking. "So, does that help us at all?"  
"Yes." Mr. Spears said, once again taking hold of the discussion. "We can potentially track the origin of the silk. It's a small lead, but our employer stated that Mr. Slingby may have our next lead."  
Eric looked up at his name. "What now? Oh, yeah. Um, so me and Ron and Grelle talked to an old lady-"  
"Really good cook." Ronald added. Mr. Spears shot him a look.  
"And she knew about the store room. She told someone, a potential buyer, and I guess we should check that out?" Eric hated how awkward he sounded.  
Mr. Spears nodded. "Yes, I believe that would be the next course of action. Additionally, Mr. Crevan told me you had a hunch."  
"What?" Eric asked. He didn't recall mentioning that particular thought with the Undertaker. Could he read minds? Maybe that wouldn't be the strangest thing to happen. "Yeah, guess so. I think the killer was on a schedule."  
"Come again?" Mr. Spears asked, raising an eyebrow.  
"He was rushing. His kills are always calculated. I think he has a day job or something. Something with a strict schedule that he has to keep. That was why he got messy on the last body dump. Am I making sense? I feel like I'm not making sense."  
"No, I understand." Alan said. He seemed to be thinking. "That would make sense, wouldn't it. For the Demon to have a tight schedule."  
"He has demonstrated a variety of professional skills as well." Othello chimed in. "He may hold a high profile job as an alibi."  
Mr. Spears nodded again. "I find that a very compelling idea. Sutcliffe, Knox, you'll be with me. We're going to look into that theory. Othello will stay with Rudgar and follow the string lead. Slingby, Humphries will accompany you to the business the witness mentioned. Take Sascha with you to document.  
Sascha held up their camera. "Ready when you are!!"  
"Right then." Eric said, slightly in awe of Mr. Spears' ability to pull a plan together in seconds. It had just been one day since they had taken the case, and they had already done so much. Eric was in awe of that as well.  
"Excellent. Let's see how much more progress we can gain from today." Mr. Spears said. "Best of luck to all of you." With that, the supervisor strode out of the lounge.  
"So where exactly are we going?" Alan asked.  
"Uh, it sounds a little weird."  
"Try me."  
"We have to go to Fun Mutt Tofu."

"So it's a real place." Eric said, squinting out the window. According to google maps, this shabby, run down, paint peeled building was their destination.  
"Life's full of surprises." Alan said. "I've never heard of this place. It does give me an odd feeling."  
"Yeah, Tofu's gross." Eric said.  
Alan laughed and nudged him in the shoulder. "No, I mean what kind of food business looks like this?"  
"Valid point. And why has no one come poking around before." Eric said.  
"Well, guess we better find out." Alan said, opening the door and sliding out of the car.  
Eric heard a soft beep and turned around to see Sascha holding up their camera. "Video feature!"  
"This feels like the start of a horror movie." Eric sighed, before starting towards the doors of the building. "Three idiots go into a weird building that may or may not house a murderer."  
"Idiots? I find myself to be quite smart, thank you." Alan said.  
"No! You are. You're freakishly smart. It's scary." Eric said quickly. It seemed like his streak of compulsive speaking would be continuing. Fantastic.  
"Why thank you." Alan said, a teasing glint in his eye. "Would you like to do the honors?" He gestured to the rusty door.  
"Sure, I'll contract tinnitus for the greater good." Eric said. Alan snorted.  
Eric gave the rusted handle a firm tug. Nothing happened. It barely gave. He yanked again, harder. The silence was pierced by a squeal of metal, and yet the door still didn't budge.  
"You are strong." Sascha said, nodding.  
"Thanks, but I guess I'm not strong enough to break us in." Eric sighed before pounding on the door. "HELLO? ANYONE IN THERE?"  
"No telling Mr. Spears this." Alan said, kneeling down to the rusty key hole. Before Eric knew what was happening, the door opened with a click.  
"So magic is real." He said, staring.  
"No, just a lock pick." Alan said. "But thank you for the faith."  
"Still cool." Eric said, grinning. "Don't worry, I didn't see anything. Literally, you were so fast."

The interior of the building was even filthier then the exterior.  
"If all tofu factories look like this, my hatred of tofu is totally justified." Eric said, taking in the grimy walls and rusted counters.  
Alan laughed again. "Thankfully for tofu, I don't think that's the case. This building hasn't been used in years."  
"So, what's it here for, and why did it want to buy a train station?" Eric asked.  
"It's a front, a sock puppet." Alan said. "To cover up for the real organization behind the scenes. If I had to wager a guess, I'd say that the entire thing was an info grab. So the Demon could learn about the station and where he could dump the bodies."  
"Yeah, seems that way." Eric said, crossing his arms. "So, how do we find out-"  
A loud slam sounded, cutting Eric off. The trio jumped.  
"That cannot be good." Sascha said softly.  
"No it cannot." Alan said. "We should leave."  
"I love that idea." Eric said. The three carefully made their way back to the entrance.  
Eric regarded the rusty door suspiciously. "We definitely left that open, didn't we?"  
"We did." Alan said.  
Eric felt the hairs raise on the back of his neck. Someone else was inside with them, someone who was making quite the effort not to be seen. Now that he was focusing, he could hear the soft tap of footsteps. "Alan!" he hissed.  
"I know." Alan said. "Do you see any other exits? It's locked from the outside."  
"We are going to die." Sascha said in a small voice.  
"Shh, we're fine." Alan said in a soothing tone. "We're just fine."  
"I think I see a back door. Seems to be open a crack." Eric said, jerking his head in the direction of the door.  
"Start moving there, slowly." Alan said, scanning their dark surroundings. Due to the boarded up windows of the building, seeing clearly was quite difficult.  
"Is it the killer?" Sascha asked.  
"I certainly hope not." Alan said.  
There was a clank, and Eric saw movement out of the corner of his eye. "GO!"  
The trio quickly sped up, dashing for the back door. Something whizzed past Eric's head, burying itself in the wall in front of him. A knife. Eric yanked it out and brandished it over his shoulder. It probably looked more stupid than threatening, but it was something.

"Is he trying to kill us?" Eric asked, voice higher then he'd like it to be.  
"I don't think so. Not yet anyways. He seems to be playing with us." Alan said, panic written across his face.  
"Great." Eric said. No other knives had been thrown. Eric snatched a pipe off the ground. He felt like he would have better luck with this weapon.  
There was a squeak as a knife grazed Sascha's leg and they stumbled. Eric managed to grab the back of their shirt and hoist them to their feet.  
"He's most likely trying to scare us first, and then he'll most likely pick us off one by one-"  
"Alan, maybe not the time!" Eric said, tossing the knife back behind him. He'd never thrown a knife before so he doubted it did much.  
"Look." Sascha said suddenly, voice calm. "A rabbit."  
"A what?" Eric asked, squinting. Then he saw it. Off to the side he saw a piece of paper with the printed image of a rabbit. It was too far to pick out exactly, but it most certainly didn't belong in the rusty building.  
At that point they'd made it to the back door, which thankfully was open a crack.  
"You guys go ahead. I'm gonna get that paper."  
"Eric! Are you insane?!" Alan protested. "That may actually be the dumbest idea I've ever heard!"  
"Maybe." Eric said. "Get to cover, and if I'm not back in a few minutes, call the police. Or Mr. Spears. Whatever works."  
"ERIC!" Alan yelled, but Eric had already darted back into the depths of the building. 

The piece of paper had been laying on a table, it's pristine whiteness a stark contrast to the reddish interior. It hadn't been too far from the door hadn't it? Eric tried to be as quiet as possible, wincing at every footstep. He risked a glance back at the door, and thankfully didn't see Alan or Sascha.  
A flash of white caught in the corner of Eric's eye. There it was. Now that he was closer, he could see that it was indeed a rabbit. It was a logo of some kind...  
A sharp kick to Eric's back sent him sprawling. He bit back a curse, he hadn't even heard the Demon approach.  
Eric landed hard, the brunt of the impact being taken by his left arm. Thankfully he didn't feel any sharp pains indicating a break. Somehow he'd kept his grip on the iron pipe. Eric strained his hears to listen, barely picking up soft breaths and even softer footsteps. He waited...waited...  
Eric swung the pipe with all his strength the second he felt that the Demon was close enough behind him. His estimate seemed to be correct, as the pipe made impact with a sharp crack.  
The demon barely made a noise, aside from stumbling back. Eric had heard a short intake of breath. At least he'd made the bastard hurt a little.

Eric couldn't waste any time reveling in his success. He snatched the paper and ran like his hair was on fire, still clutching his trusty pipe. Maybe he'd actually severely hurt the Demon. Eric didn't hear any footsteps behind him, although he'd barely heard the Demon before.   
Eric leapt through the door, and whirled around, holding the pipe like a baseball bat. He felt a hand on his shoulder and he swung the pipe, stopping inches from Sascha's head.   
"Please do not kill me." They said in a small voice.   
Eric lowered the pipe. "Shit, my bad."  
"Eric!" Alan yelled. He actually looked angry. "Are you insane? You just ran head first at a serial killer! Do you have any regard for your own life at all?!"  
Eric was about to respond, but the scent of gasoline caught his attention. "Shit. GET BACK!"  
Seconds after he'd yelled, the entire building went up in a ball of flame. The trio was thrown back, all landing hard. Eric felt a searing pain on his back, wincing as he realized he'd been just close enough to get burned.   
"There!" Sascha called. Through the smoke, Eric could see a tall, slim figure dashing away. He started to get up, but was stopped by a grip on his arm.   
"Eric...enough." Alan said weakly. "Let him go."  
Eric slumped back to the ground, unable to shake the feeling that he could have done more. 

The next hour passed in a whirl of paramedics, reporters, an angry land owner, and an even angrier Mr. Spears. Due to being trapped in a hospital room, Erich had no escape route when Mr. Spears stepped into his room.   
"Uh, hello sir." Eric said nervously.   
Mr. Spears carefully shut the door. Took at deep breath, and yelled, "ARE THERE ANY BRAIN CELLS IN THAT THICK SKULL OF YOURS?"  
"Sir I-"  
"NOT A WORD SLINGBY! NOT! A! WORD! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT COULD HAVE HAPPENED IN THERE?"  
"I could have died." Eric said.   
Mr. Spears pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yes Eric, you could have died. Does that mean nothing to you?"  
"I mean-"  
"You don't do you? I've seen cowards, narcissists, masochists, lost causes, but never have I met someone so stupidly noble as you."  
"Noble?" Eric asked. "Thanks?"  
"No. Talking." Mr. Spears said, holding up his hand. "I don't know what hero complex you have, but I never want to see that happen again. No stupid self endangerment. Do I need to use smaller words Mr. Slingby?"  
"No sir. But I-"  
He held up a hand again. "Save it. You're going to be called a hero for what happened in there. Brave Eric Slingby charged into a building to face down the demon. You'll be praised and your ego will be stoked. But I'm here to tell you that I will not tolerate that behaviors again."  
Eric felt his temper spike. "Sounds to me the only one who's not pleased is you. Did I break your precious protocol? Do you get physical pain when I don't follow the rules?" Eric expected Mr. Spears to yell more, but the supervisor only sighed heavily before looking up at Eric. He seemed exhausted.   
"Believe it or not, I may be more concerned with the lives of my team then rules. The rules are here to protect us Mr. Slingby. You're still new here, do not forget that. You may be Mr. Crevan's newest prize horse, but you lack my experience. This is my fifth team Mr. Slingby. I swore off working with your type. Do you know why?"  
"Because you're jealous?" It was a petty blow, but Eric's temper was as hot as the burns on his back.   
"BEAUSE THEY DIED!" Mr. Spears exploded. "IGNORANCE KILLS! WHY DON'T ANY OF YOU IGNORAMUSES UNDERSTAND? I'M CHARGED WITH YOUR LIVES! EVERYTHING THAT HAPPENS IN THE FIELD IS ON MY SHOULDERS!"  
Eric felt his anger fade. He felt like a three year old with his hand caught in the cookie jar. "I understand sir. I'm sorry."  
"There's no point in apologizing." Mr. Spears snapped. "What's done is done. I just hope that you can get it through your thick skull that you should not do that again. I've been chasing the demon for longer than you know. He's never showed mercy to any of us. If you get yourself killed I will personally dig you up and kill you again."  
Despite being the larger man, Eric felt small and cornered. Again he remembered his days of sitting in bars, laughing at the professional looking men in suits. Spineless brownnosers, that's what he'd called them. But if they were anything like Mr. Spears, he'd seriously misjudged them. This man might be the strongest person he'd ever met.   
"Sir, I really am sorry-"  
"Apologize again and it's overtime for you." Mr. Spears said, returning to his normal self. "I should be the one to tell you so your pride doesn't overwhelm your senses. That piece of paper may be the most valuable clue we've found yet.   
Eric tried his hardest to press down the flair of excitement he felt. "That so?"  
Mr. Spears nodded. "Anyways, it's about seven p.m. I don't expect you in until noon. I rarely give rest time, so enjoy it. When you do get in, find Knox and help him with his work. I'm going to regret pairing you two together, but god help me, I'm desperate."

Eric tried his hardest to fall back asleep when he awoke at five the next morning, but he was too excited. He dragged himself out of his bed, ignoring the calls of the nurse. After a run to his apartment and a painful shower, Eric arrived at six thirty. To his surprise, the office was fairly empty. Ronald seemed to be the only member of his team present. He knocked on the door frame to announce his presence.   
"Oh hey. Didn't expect you until later." Ronald said. To Eric's surprise, he actually appeared to be working. "Everyone else is in the field."  
"And they left you huh? Sucks to suck."  
"Yeah, yeah." Ronald rolled his eyes. "Don't worry, we got our own work to do. Gimme a sec to finish Alan's filing, and we can get going."  
"What are you filing for? You're practically illiterate?" Eric said, poking Ronald in the ribs.   
Ronald squirmed away. "Yeah, tell me about it. It's a fucking mess, but it's technically filed. Spears won't be pleased but I can say I did it. Alan's not here."  
"What? Why not?" Eric asked. "Is he in the field or?"  
"Didn't come in to work." Ronald said. Then he looked up. "Wait, you don't know?"  
"Know what?" Eric was getting a sick feeling.   
"Oh, shoulda known he wouldn't tell you. Maybe I shouldn't have said anything..."  
"Ronald, tell me." Eric said.   
"Ok, you didn't hear this from me..."  
"Get to the point!"  
"He's not the healthiest." Ronald said. "You've seen the signs haven't you? As far as I know it's not terminal-"  
"He's sick? How sick?" Eric demanded.   
"Mate, let me talk. Like I said it's not terminal, but exerting himself could trigger something real bad. I dunno what it is exactly, I just know it's pretty bad. Lungs, blood, heart. That's why Spears tried to move him to more desk duty. Alan wouldn't hear of it though."  
"Jesus christ." Eric said. "That explosion."  
"Yeah." Ronald said. "But hey, don't worry. He always gets back up. He'll probably be here bright and early tomorrow like nothing happened, ready to politely murder me for fucking up this filing." When Eric didn't respond, Ronald switched off the computer and stood up. "Let's get some air. You hungry at all? I was at this hotel with a lady friend the other night and I took the entire stack of coupons for that breakfast place down the road..."

Eric genuinely appreciated Ronald's attempts to cheer him up. He'd never express this, but Ronald's loyalty and friendship from day one meant the world to him. Ronald was his usual loud, hyperactive self, but he was careful to pay attention to Eric's state.   
Eric knew that almost nothing could distract him though, and he honestly didn't know why. These feelings in themselves were concerning. So he turned to the one thing that had even the slightest chance of distracting him. The case.   
"Spears said that piece of paper was a really important clue." Eric said.   
Ronald nodded. "Hell yeah it was. It was a company logo, a real one. A real big one, that totally has the money to set up an army of sock puppets. That's where the others are, investigating other potential sock puppets."  
Eric nodded. "What was the logo?"  
Ronald grinned. "Well it's a big enough scandal that we gotta go talk to some important people. Get this. It's the Funtom Toy Company."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there's the chapter!! The plot thickens I guess XD  
> I hope you enjoyed and thank you so much if you've read this far. I hope everyone reading this has a lovely day!!


	12. 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends!! I'm back. Yayyyy I guess XD  
> Shout out to Javanne, your comment really made my day. I'm super self conscious about my writing, so getting comments like that really helps me somewhat like my own work XD
> 
> Anyways, I need to stop making these notes because they're annoying. Enjoy the chapter!!

"Holy-"  
"I know. It looks normal." Ronald said.  
The building before the pair was an exact opposite of the office they'd come from. There were no skull shaped bushes, or skull themed decorative windows, or skull patterned curtains-Actually, what was even up with the skulls? Eric should have asked him that...  
"Welcome to the Society of the Brown Noser-I mean the Society of the Queensmen."  
"Woah." Eric said. He couldn't suppress the flutter of excitement in his chest.   
"You're a freaking geek, you know that right?" Ronald said, lightly punching him in the shoulder. "And besides, they're our competitors."  
Eric rubbed his shoulder, glaring at Ronald. "Well sorry I'm not used to this high profile crime world."   
"Alright buddy, apology accepted. Now let's get in there and get you an autograph or something." Ronald said, patting the spot where he'd hit Eric.   
"You're an asshole, you know that right?" Eric said, crossing his arms.   
"I'm aware. And I own it." Ronald said, giving him finger guns. And with that, the two walked towards the marble doors. 

The Society was a glistening icon of crime history in London. Formed in the Victorian Era, the Society of the Queensmen was formed as an inner circle of the Queen's most trusted. They would carry out her orders in service of England. It was an elegant, incredibly famous, incredibly successful organization that remained active to the very day. Eric wasn't quite sure what went on daily in there, but he remembered them being involved in many acts of bad-assery, and that was cool enough for him.   
The marble doors opened to a glistening marble hallway. Attendants in sharp white uniforms waited at desks, or waited at the doors, opening them for the pair. In their black suits, the two stuck out.   
"Wow. Fancy." Eric said.   
"Don't lose it on me fanboy. We got work to do. We gotta be cool." Ronald said jokingly. "These bastards take cases from us all the time, because they're "official" or whatever."  
Eric scanned the room and sighed in disappointment. Everyone in this room was just a ground level employee. He didn't see any of the actual queensmen. Ronald heard him sigh and stared at him.  
"Seriously? This isn't Disney Land." He shook his head. "I hate to break it to you, but these guys aren't anything like us. They love rules, organization, they're trained in combat, and they have paid leave."  
"Sounds exactly like Mr. Spears to me." Eric said. "Minus the combat."  
"You've clearly never heard the story about the time he fought off a criminal with gardening equipment."  
"That happened?"  
"Yup. Almost made him look cool. Morning love!" Ronald said, turning to the girl at the front desk. "Me and my buddy here are on some official business, real hush hush, you get it, yeah?"  
Ronald had turned on the charm. The girl seemed awestruck with a blush on her cheeks. However, the rules thing must have been serious, because she said "Do you have an appointment?"  
"See, that's the thing." Ronald said. "This is real spur of the moment stuff. We didn't have time to make an appointment, and we don't got time to wait around now. If you let us talk to someone important, you might just save some lives." Ronald had leaned forward and was practically whispering in the girl's ear.   
"I-I'm sorry, you need an appointment to talk to any ranking superiors." she said, looking at her hands. "Even if I let you in, I don't know if they'd see you..."  
Eric nudged Ronald. "You better know what you're doing. I refuse to make a fool out of myself in front of the Queensmen."  
Ronald grinned. "Eric, Eric, Eric. I always have a plan. Well, maybe not a plan, but I got connections." he turned back to the girl. "That won't be a problem actually. I just need you to tell someone I'm here. He'll make sure we're seen."  
Eric nudged Ronald again. "Do you mean to tell me you know Queensmen?"  
"We've butted heads in the field." Ronald shrugged, and then winked. "C'mon mate, you know I can work magic."  
"I'm very concerned about how you got these connections." Eric said. Ronald laughed and waved him off.   
"I'll tell you the story sometime. In the mean time, sweetheart, could you call the people in charge of the London sector, and tell em' Ronald Knox is here and needs a word?"  
The girl nodded. "Yeah. I can do that. Please wait right over there." she pointed to a well furnished waiting area.   
"Thanks love, you're the best!" Ronald said, pulling Eric aside and collapsing into a cushy white chair. "What did I tell you!"  
"Ok, fair enough. You got us this far." Eric said.   
"I know. It's a gift." Ronald said. "Mr. Spears wouldn't have sent us here if it wasn't important. So I guess I better take it seriously."  
The girl returned a moment later. "Right this way please."  
"Magic." Ronald whispered. Eric shoved him lightly before following the girl up a marble staircase. 

The higher up they went, the more impressive things got. Art lined the walls, offices were complete with crystal doorknobs and a massive chandelier hung over the staircase.   
Eric yanked Ronald's sleeve when he saw the people wearing the badges. They were also dressed in white, but upon their chest was a gold pin, adorned with what appeared to be small gems. The Queen's seal.  
"Christ on a bicycle Eric. I see them." Ronald said, yanking his sleeve back. "If you wet yourself from excitement I'm never going to stop laughing at you. Ever."  
The girl pulled off the staircase finally and lead them to one of the crystal knobbed doors. She knocked twice before entering. It was a much smaller room than the front room, but it was just as lavish. Another secretary gestured towards a smaller hallway, leading back further into the building.  
"Thanks for your help." Ronald said. "Hopefully I'll see you on the way out!"   
"You little heartbreaker you." Eric said as they walked down the smaller hall.  
"I know, I know." Ronald said, rolling his eyes. "She was pretty cute though. I think I'll give her my number."  
"Awesome." Eric said. "So, do you have any idea where we're going?"  
"Yup." Ronald said. "I've been here before. I told you, connections!"  
Ronald lead Eric into a small office, about the size of their own. It was still better furnished and gave off a "best of the best feel." Ronald shut the door behind them. "And now we wait!"  
"If a clone of Mr. Spears walks through the door, I am going to die." Eric said seriously.  
Ronald snickered. "Nah, that would be Rudgar. And trust me. My connection is nothing like Mr. Spears. Thank god."

About two minutes later the door swung open, slamming into the wall. Eric was reminded of many of Ronald's entrances.   
"Well, well. Ronald Knox. This better be good." Leaning in the doorway was a slender young man. His white hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and his blue eyes flashed with interest. However, what caught Eric's attention was the sword at his waist. "Holy mother of mary..."  
"Oh jesus, don't embarrass me." Ronald said. Eric didn't answer. Swords like that were only issued to the best of the best, the highest ranking Queensmen. This was one of the elite.   
The Queensman caught Eric looking and adjusted his position, letting Eric get a better look. "Pretty isn't it? I wouldn't touch though. They're surprisingly sharp, yet more reliable than any gun."  
"Earth to Eric." Ronald said, snapping his fingers. "I can't believe I'm the one pushing us to work. What has the world come to!"  
"Right, sorry." Eric said. The Queensman was shorter than him. He was almost effeminate with his slim build and long eyelashes. But there was another outstanding detail. "Christ you're young."  
"No older than you." the Queensman shrugged. "You surprised? People usually are."  
"Well no shit! It takes years to climb the ranks like that!"  
"And I've been climbing. Ever since I was six." the Queensman said, his eyes were glittering with something reminiscent of aggression, although more playful.   
"Oh bullshit, like you were indicted when you were six." Eric said.   
"Family tradition." The Queensman stuck out a hand lazily. "Earl Charles Grey at your service."  
Now it made sense. "Shit, you're a Grey. Shit, I've heard of you!"  
"Aw cute, he's a fan." Grey said, glancing over at Ronald who facepalmed.   
"Yeah, I've been reading Queensman history since forever. The Greys were one of the first families to join. They've done such a good job that their descendants have automatic invitations to join." Eric said.  
"Mate, could you be any more geeky." Ronald groaned.   
"I like you." Grey said. He turned to Ronald. "I like him."  
"Great." Ronald said, rolling his eyes.   
"So, guess you're here for business, not fun." Grey said. "Shame, my day's been free. You'd better have something interesting to tell me."  
"Like I'm telling you anything. I just gotta get some questions answered." Ronald said.   
"I'm sure we'll work something out." Grey said. "Come on then. And keep up. If you get lost I'm sure as hell not finding you."

Grey lead them down the twisting hallways to a series of larger, more roomy offices. He banged on the door of one, not stopping until the occupant opened the door. Grey being a friend of Ronald was making more and more sense.   
The man who opened the door was taller and more muscular than Grey, but ironically had the same white hair. Eric wondered if it was natural. He had a more reserved look about him, but Eric had a feeling that his mind was always working.   
"Phipps!" Grey said. "I've found some stray birds. Says they have a song to sing for us."  
"Mr. Knox." the second Queensman shook Ronald's hand. "Pleasure to see you again." He turned to Eric. "I don't believe we've met before. I'm Charles Phipps."  
"Two Charles huh?" Eric said, shaking his hand. "Doub-....Shiiiiiit." Eric trailed off.  
"I feel like the conversation is about to get geeky." Ronald said.  
"You two are the Double Charles'! You've solved some of the most high profile cases in England!" Eric said.   
"God dammit Eric!" Ronald groaned.   
Phipps regarded Eric for a moment. "Do not discount your own organization's merits. While we are rivals in the eyes of the public and in the eyes of some of our own, both of us play our parts in protecting the civilians around us. We both have parts to play and I'm sure you play yours well." Eric decided that he liked Phipps.   
"So" Ronald said. "Shall we? Sorry, I really don't wanna get overtime."

Once they were settled in what Eric assumed was Phipps' office, the discussion begun.  
"So lads." Ronald said. "What can you tell me about the Funtom Toy Company?"  
"It is a large source of the Phantomhive family's income." Phipps said. "Possibly the main source. There was talk of more diplomatic matters, but that all faded into obscurity upon the death of the head of the household."  
"Yeah, I read something about that." Eric said. "Fire or something. Tragic isn't it."  
"Suspicious is what it is." Grey said. Phipps had fetched a tray of biscuits and the shorter Queensman had eaten six since they'd begun. He held another in his hand. "I'm telling you, there's something wrong with that whole thing." he waved his hand around, scattering crumbs.   
"Grey, can we please not start that argument again. It is indecent to speak ill of the dead."  
"Screw your decency to hell." Grey sighed, slumping back in his chair. "And it's not so much the ones who are dead that worry me then the ones who are alive."  
"Who's the current head?" Ronald asked. "I know they had a kid but-"  
"That is the head. The bloody kid." Grey said. "Sneaky little bastard."  
"Grey." Phipps sighed. "Yes, Ciel Phantomhive, aged thirteen is the current head of the Phantomhive Estate. He runs both the household and the business endeavors of his family."  
"That can't be right then." Eric said, frowning. A kid couldn't be in charge of a sock puppet empire.  
"Is there anyone else? A business partner, anyone?" Ronald asked.   
"No. He runs it all alone." Phipps said.   
"Ah! But there's that slimy butler too!" Grey said. He looked as if he would say more, but Phipps handed him more food, presumably to keep his mouth shut.   
"Ok then." Ronald said. "So, a thirteen year old."  
"You wanna tell us what you're actually dealing with?" Grey said, mouth partially full. "We might be able to help some more with some context."  
"You just want to steal the case!" Ronald said accusingly.   
"No. We want to help." Phipps said, shooting a meaningful look at Grey. "I personally do not approve of the actions of both organizations in sabotaging the other. You have my sworn word that what we discuss here will not leave this room."   
"Right then." Ronald sighed. "Grey, if you spill to anyone, I'll kill you myself."

Ronald quickly walked the Queensmen through the events of the case up until the events of the day before.  
"You charged in there blind? Ballsy move." Grey laughed.   
"So that building was a sock puppet." Phipps mused. He suddenly pulled a laptop off his desk and began typing. "I believe I do have something of interest to you." He turned the laptop screen around to face the others. "About a year before the fire, the Phantomhives were under an investigation connecting to many different sock puppet businesses. We suspected money laundering, but with what you've said now..."  
"That sneaky little brat must have reopened them. We must have overlooked it because he's a "precious wittle baby" I'm telling you that's what happened. I knew it Phipps. I told you he was involved in something dark!" Grey said.   
"If he's connected to the Demon killings, I'd say those are some very serious, yet astute guesses." Phipps said.   
"We have guys out looking at the other puppet buildings." Ronald said. "Spears wanted me to come here and see what you knew about the Phantomhives."  
"I can send you our files." Phipps said.   
"Ignore the dead parents. It's the kid you want!" Grey said. He was sitting on the edge of his seat.   
Phipps sighed again. "Given the preferred timeline of your organization, I would agree with the notion of focusing on the living members. I will personally review information about the deceased and will contact you if I find anything of interest."   
"That would be amazing." Eric said. "And you said we were rivals, Ronald."  
"That reminds me!" Grey said. "The Phantomhive Investigation is ours! Meaning that we're now a part of this investigation!"   
"GOD DAMMIT ERIC!"  
"Everyone, please calm down." Phipps said. "Personally yes, I would like to aid in capturing this individual. However, if you would prefer not to blur company lines, I understand."  
"I want to smack that smug little bitch of an heir across his bratty face-"  
"Grey. Enough."  
Eric thought for a moment before turning to Ronald. "You're really not going to like this, but I think they could help."  
"The god of awkward fanboys is weeping." Ronald sighed.  
"Shut up. You said it earlier. We don't have combat training. They do. If we had them at the other building we might've gotten him." Eric said.   
"Dammit, that's logical." Ronald sighed. "I guess it's a possibility...but just you two." Ronald said. "If I see any taking over, I will be very very angry. And then I will stand there and cry so everyone feels awkward."  
"I will get in contact with William Spears." Phipps said. "To establish terms of our collaboration."   
"Sounds good." Ronald said, standing up. "Shit, we've been here a while. Mr. Spears is gonna yell at me."  
"What else is new?" Grey said, twisting a strand of his hair.   
"Oh, ha ha ha." Ronald said.   
"Grey can escort you out if that is what you wish." Phipps said. "I will pay a visit to our archives to seek out more information."  
"Hey, thank you." Eric said. "Seriously. For just genuinely wanting to help."  
"What a sad world we live in. A world where people genuinely helping is so rare." Phipps said, before exiting the office.   
"Alright you two, party's over." Grey said. "Follow me."

"I guess I gotta thank you too." Ronald said, as Grey lead them out.   
"Don't mention it." Grey laughed. He shot a look over his shoulder at Ronald. "Cut the cold shoulder already. Your friend likes me."  
Ronald rolled his eyes and grinned. "Damn, thought I fooled you."  
"Never. We've spent too many nights together for that." Grey said teasingly. "Well out you go then. Guess I'll be seeing you soon. And you, Eric was it? Remind me to bring you a steel pipe or something. You might not need our combat training after all." With a half assed wave, Earl Charles Grey disappeared back into the imposing building.   
Eric turned to Ronald. "I'm sorry, my ears must be failing me."  
"Well that's a tragedy."  
"Did he say you slept together?!"  
Ronald grinned.   
"YOU SLEPT WITH A QUEENSMAN?"  
"We were feeling rebellious. It was the first time we met and we thought it would be funny if Mr. Spears walked in on us in a suspicious looking situation. It was supposed to be a joke, but then there was drinking and then it wasn't."  
Eric sighed. "And here I was thinking he was a friend."  
"He is. With benefits." Ronald said, raising his eyebrows. "Anywho, we're not serious, so don't worry. I'm still all yours."  
"You are an asshole." Eric said, swatting him on the shoulder.   
"I know!" 

"Ah, Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum." Mr. Spears said as Ronald and Eric entered the lounge. "Last I checked it doesn't take forty minutes to get from the Society to here."  
"We made a shopping run." Ronald said, holding up a tray of pastries. "By the way, I'm not sharing."  
"Ronald, there is a special hatred in my soul just for you." Grelle said.   
"Good."   
"Ronald what the hell did you do to my filing system." Eric felt his heart leap as he turned to see Alan.  
"You're back!" Eric said. He had the strange urge to hug him.  
"Yes, I am, fortunately for you all." Alan said. "Eric can you pretty please share your pastries? I'm starving."  
"Toss em' here Ron."  
"Bold of you to assume I'm sharing with you either."  
"Mate! I paid!"   
"And it's safe to assume we're not going to accomplish anything at the moment." Mr. Spears sighed. "Ten minute break. Knox, give me a pastry or it's overtime for you."  
"THAT'S NOT FAIR!"  
As Ronald protested, Eric pulled Alan over outside of the lounge. "Hey, you doing alright?"  
"Of course. Why wouldn't I-" he eyed Eric suspiciously. "Someone told you didn't they."  
"Um. No?"  
Alan sighed. "Alright, let's get it over with. You're oh so sorry, poor fragile Alan, so on." he said, sounding irritated.   
"What? I mean, there was an explosion." Eric said. "Sick or not, shit got wild."  
"Nice save." Alan said drily. "But the effort's appreciated."  
Eric relaxed. "Good. Can I ask why you didn't want anyone to tell me?"  
"Because the second everyone knows they act like I'm fragile, or useless, or weak." Alan said bitterly. "It's taken forever to prove myself since the others found out, and still Spears promoted me."  
"You're a bloody hypocrite. I'd love a promotion." Eric said, trying to make him smile. Thankfully his attempt worked.  
"I know, privileged aren't I." Alan said, rolling his eyes while smiling.   
"I can't promise I won't be worried." Eric said. "I've grown to like you, and I worry about people I like. So. Yeah. Christ that didn't make sense. You're not useless. You're the smartest person I've ever met, and would be lost without you. At the office I mean. Uh. Yeah."  
"Thank you." Alan said sincerely. "Really Eric, that means a lot. Thank you."  
"Hug it out?" Eric said. Ah, it seemed his streak of saying idiot things was back.   
Alan laughed. "Sure, why not."  
And that's how Eric got to be standing there, hugging Alan. He felt something stir in him, something that made him almost startle.   
"Are you ok?" Alan asked, looking up at him. At that moment, the gods of the universe pitied Eric because Ronald forced his way into the hug.  
"I demand to be included!"  
"Oh for fuck's sake!"   
"Yay friendship!" Eric heard Grelle call before she pushed her way in too.  
"Oh for fuck's sake you idiots!" Eric said, laughing.  
Mr. Spears stepped in and eyed them. "I don't want to know."  
"Join the hug Mr. Spears!" Ronald called.  
"No."  
"Awwww, why not."  
"He's too good for the friendship hug session." Alan said.   
Eric laughed, but a tricky question slipped into mind. Ronald was a friend. He felt a lot for him, but not in the way he felt for Alan. Did that mean something? Did he...did he want...  
This was going to be a problem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annnd there you have it!! I hope you guys enjoyed!! Hopefully I'll be back soon with another update! Thanks so much for reading and I hope everyone seeing this has a lovely day!!!


	13. 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends! I'm trying to fit more relationship building in this chapter, so we'll see how that goes!!

Eric gritted his teeth. In the day it had taken them to recruit the Queensmen, the Demon had struck again. Before him was a gruesome scene. It was by far the messiest crime scene the demon had left behind. Gore spattered the walls, painting the entire apartment in a smear of red. Bits and pieces were strewn throughout the room of what used to be the victim. Stranger still was the amount of strange occult items left behind.  
"It's like he threw a tantrum." Ronald said, crossing his arms. "A really deadly tantrum."  
"Do killers even throw tantrums?" Grelle asked. She almost blended in with the crimson surroundings.  
"I guess this one does." Eric said. Dammit, the victim was a man around Ronald's age. He was young, and he had no outlaying connections. He was just a random person, who's luck had taken a nosedive. If Eric thought hard enough, maybe he could picture Ronald...  
"Mate, Earth to Eric, hellooo?" Ronald called, waving his hand in front of Eric's face. "You alright?"  
Eric shook his head. "Yeah, sorry. Hey Ron, I'm glad you're alive."  
Ronald looked confused for a moment before grinning. "Yeah, me too! Life's a party."  
"I highly recommend you stop the party and get to work." Mr. Spears sighed. "Sutcliffe, you're with me."  
Grelle gave an excited squeal and dashed over to Mr. Spears, who sighed heavily. "I'm completely at your service William, darling!"  
"You three, get to work. And make it quick. If we find anything that contradicts our current theory, we're in trouble." Mr. Spears said, ignoring Grelle.  
Eric looked at Ronald and Alan. "Right then, we're off."  
"I think you mean four!" Eric jumped as someone swung an arm over his shoulders. Charles Grey grinned at the trio before looking up at Eric. "God damn, you're tall."

"So, anyone want to fill me in on the working theory?" Grey asked. He was acting completely casual, almost lazy despite their macabre surroundings.  
"Well we're thinking that the demon has definite ties to the Phantomhive estate." Alan said. "So he must be involved with them in some way. For now we're looking for anything that supports that, or even denies it."  
"Gotcha." Grey said. "This has got to be the biggest I told you so moment of my career."  
"Hm?" Alan asked. "How so?"  
"I've thought the Phantomhives were sketchy ever since I met em' at that charity ball for the society. Then they both go up in flames and the little brat takes over. I knew there was something fishy going on, but whenever I pulled together anything worthy of warranting an investigation, I get brushed off. They have ties in the society or something." Grey complained.  
"Well we make breaking the rules our business!" Ronald said cheerfully. "So we shouldn't have to worry about that."  
"Ronald." Alan sighed, shaking his head. Eric caught his eye and grinned, and Alan thankfully grinned back. Eric was worried that their friendship had been strained by their conversation yesterday, but everything seemed to be alright.  
"Hey, get a look at this!" Ronald called, waving the others over. "The murder weapon!"  
"We already found the weapon dimwit." Eric said playfully, shoving his shoulder. "That really nice set of kitchen knives. Honestly that skeeves me out."  
"Then what's this!" Ronald said triumphantly, holding up a length of bloody, splintered wood.  
"That's disgusting, that's what that is." Grey said.  
"Murder weapon two." Ronald said, brandishing it. "I'm calling it."  
"That's a pretty big waste of a nice piece of wood." Eric said.  
"Wait, Eric, what did you say?" Alan said, suddenly perking up.  
"It's a waste of a nice piece of wood?" Eric asked, slightly startled.  
"A nice piece of wood." Alan said. "You're right, look at it."  
"Yeah, it's smooth. Polished." Eric said, taking the stick from Ronald. "Part of something nice."  
"Furniture maybe?" Grey asked, all traces of laziness vanishing.  
"I don't think so. It's too thin." Alan said. It was long and skinny at the least. We're missing some of the top and the very bottom. This is the middle section I think..."  
"Found some more!" Ronald said, showing off a handful of wooden shards. Grey picked one up and inspected it.  
"It's almost like a puzzle." He pressed a large shard against the larger stick. It appeared to fit.  
"Let's see if we can find more pieces." Eric said.  
"Oh boy, hunting for pieces of a dead guy's furniture." Ronald said.  
"I don't think it's furniture, and I don't think it's his either." Eric said slowly. "Ron, what's your furniture like?"  
"Wha? I mean, I got some decent stuff for cheap on ebay." Ronald said.  
"Anything this nice?"  
"God no, I'm cheap as fuck, remember?"  
"Exactly." Eric said. "Look around, this guy was a cheapskate too. Nothing else in his house matches this."  
"Nothing wrong with being a cheapskate!" Ronald protested.  
"And the chances of him having a random nice stick?" Grey asked. "And you just said it isn't furniture.  
This caught Eric off guard. He hadn't been questioned like this before.  
"Uh, yeah. I did. I was using Ron as an example. This thing is totally out of place. It's super nice and probably expensive, and doesn't match anything else in the house. I don't think it belonged to him."  
"So the demon brought his own fancy stick?" Grey challenged  
"I-um, maybe it's not a stick. It could be a lamppost?"  
"The Demon brought a lamp post with him?" Grey said. "Oh yes, the pieces are coming together now."  
"I don't know! Maybe it's a shower rack, um, a spear, uh, firewood? Or maybe-"  
"A cane." Alan's voice broke through Eric's thoughts. He had been kneeling on the floor, and his pants were stained a rusty red. He was holding up a small metal ball, also coated in gore.  
"No, that's a big marble." Ronald said. Eric cuffed him on the head.  
"It's the top of the cane. There's little pieces of wood still attached. It's a handle." Alan said. "It must have rolled over there when the cane bro-" Suddenly he doubled over with several harsh, wracking coughs.  
"Christ, you alright?" Grey asked, with an eyebrow raised. He didn't exactly sound concerned, more confused.  
"I-Yes...Yes I'm alright." Alan said as he clearly tried his hardest to rein the fit under control.  
"Maybe we should step outside." Ronald said, eyeing Alan with concern.  
"Fine by me." Grey shrugged. He seemed ultimately bored. Eric wondered if that was just how he was. Bored with life.  
Eric turned to follow the two out, when Alan suddenly gripped his arm, staggering into him. "Woah, hey!"  
"Ah! Sorry!" Alan said, still gripping onto Eric's arm. "I had a sort of dizzy spell, I feel a little lightheaded. I'm rambling aren't I?"  
"Easy, it's ok." Eric said, adjusting his position to give Alan more support. "Here, c'mon. Lean on me."  
"I don't want to be a bother..." Eric heard Alan say faintly.  
"You're not! You're barely standing as is! I'd have to be a heartless bastard to just leave you here."  
"Mm, well that's clearly not the case." Alan said. "I'd say you're one of the sweetest guys I've ever me-" he broke off again, falling back into the harsh coughing.  
Eric's gut twisted with worry. "Easy now, you don't have to talk. Come on." he practically dragged Alan outside, who's strength had fully gone into staying upright. 

The sunlight nearly blinded Eric after spending that much time in the reddened house. Shielding his eyes, Eric walked Alan over to a bench, where the brunette sank onto it, still coughing. Eric caught Ronald's eye, who gave him a worried look. Eric tried his best to give him a gesture that meant "I've got it." He most likely succeeded as Ronald turned back into the house.  
If Alan was capable of talking right then, Eric was almost certain that he'd tell him to go back into the apartment without him. Eric however, had no intention of complying with that. He sat on the bench, mumbling reassurances and rubbing circles on his back. Eric had never been the best at care taking, as a certain ex fiance would say, but he was willing to give it his best shot.  
Slowly the coughing subsided into faint wheezing. When Alan looked up at him, Eric could see that his face was pale and his eyes were glassy.  
"Does it hurt?" Eric asked. It was probably a shitty time to ask, but Eric was at a loss for other words.  
Alan nodded. "Yes, quite a bit. Mainly in my chest." he managed. "It go-goes away after a bit though."  
"Does it hurt now? Is there anything I can do?" Eric's question was met by another.  
"Why'd you stay?"  
Well, Eric was unprepared for that question. He knew he'd have to tread carefully with this one. If he said it was because he was worried, Alan might turn that back on him and say that he was pitying him. Eric decided to go to the truth.  
"I care about you." Eric said, shoving his hands into his pockets. He stared out over at the crime scene.  
"That so?" it was an offhand answer, but Eric heard himself continue.  
"Yeah, I know we just met and all, but I do. Like I'm a loyal son of a bitch. I'm the type to show up at your house at 3 am if I feel like you need something! You could have a incredible security system and it wouldn't stop me. I'd outrun attack dogs, and climb through windows, and...bloody fucking hell." Eric suddenly became aware of how he sounded. "I sound insane! Why didn't you stop me!"  
Alan grinned. "I wanted to see where it was going of course."  
"Christ." Eric groaned. "I swear I'm not a stalker."  
Alan patted his arm. "I know. I'm only teasing. But in case you were wondering, my building doesn't have a security system, just a doorman who sleeps on the job. So if you did want to pay me a nightly visit, you'd have a clear shot in."  
Eric felt his face heat up. He pinched the side of his leg, hoping to get himself under control. Of course, that did nothing.  
Alan sighed, leaning back on the bench, looking upward. "I like clouds?"  
"Wha?" Eric said, staring at him.  
"Here, lay back." Alan said, placing a hand on Eric's shoulder and gently tugging him back. "What do you see?"  
"Clouds." Eric said. "Oh wait, and a bird."  
"No." Alan said, rolling his eyes. "I mean look at the shapes."  
"That's a kid's thing." Eric said, still trying to return normal color to his face.  
"Are you mocking me for liking clouds, Eric Slingby?" Alan asked seriously.  
"No! Not at all!" Eric said quickly, panic in his voice. "I wasn't-"  
Alan snickered. "I'm only teasing again. I know, I know, it's ridiculous, but humor me. What do you see?"  
Eric squinted at the clouds. "Um, let's see, there's that one politician bloke, you can see the shape of his nose there, and there's the hand-"  
Alan burst out laughing, which surprised Eric. "Most people would see plants or animals, but you went right to a controversy."  
"Yeah." Eric said. "Tell me you don't see that though!"  
"No, now I can't unsee it." Alan said. "I'm trying to say you're a very unique person."  
"Is that a good thing?" Eric asked nervously.  
"Yes! Bloody hell, I messed up basic humor when I first met you, and now I'm messing up compliments. I'm cursed to continuously say stupid things around you."  
That made Eric turn to look at him. "No way. I'm the one who's cursed to do that."  
"What on Earth do you mean?" Alan said, looking genuinely shocked.  
"Have you heard some of the things I've said?!" Eric asked incredulously.  
"Yes, and I think they're brilliant." Alan said.  
"I mean the stupid stuff. I know my detective work is brilliant."  
"Confident aren't we." Alan teased.  
"Wait, no! Dammit, see that's what I mean!"  
"Well I like those things. They make me laugh. In a good way." Alan added. "I think in the grand scheme of things I'm not the most conversational. I like listening to you though, you usually have interesting things to say."  
Eric felt the now familiar fluttery feeling in his stomach. "You really think so?"  
Alan turned on his side slightly so that he was directly facing Eric. "Think really hard to figure it out. Use those brilliant detective skills."  
Eric found himself looking directly into Alan's eyes. He noticed that Alan's dark green eyes had lighter flecks in them. It was almost hypnotizing. Overall, he was incredibly attractive.  
...Where had that thought come from?  
"Hey, are you alright? I promise I was teasing again. I really do mean that." Alan said.  
"What? I had a thought." Eric said, digging frantically for a thought to play this off with.  
"Hm? Let's hear it." Alan said. He seemed genuinely interested in what Eric had to say, which almost made things worse.  
"Uh, my thought is...Ronald!"  
"Your thought is Ronald?" Alan asked, confused.  
"No, Ronald! Over there!" Eric said. "With a crying woman...oh no."

Despite the "best efforts" of the police, the girlfriend of the victim had snuck past and gotten an eyeful of what had become of her lover. Eric was impressed she hadn't completely fallen apart, despite being close. She was sobbing into Ronald's shoulder, sounding as if she herself was dying.

Eric found himself standing uselessly, as Alan tried his best to get statements from her, without pushing her even farther.   
"I just don't understand why." she wailed. "He was normal, no one would kill him."  
Eric clenched his fists. What she was saying was true, the Demon's victims had never had any connections to each other. In all honestly, the only tie they had was the fact that they were all completely random.   
"Slingby, come here." Mr. Spears said, waving Eric over. Eric sent Ronald an apologetic look, before jogging over. In all honesty he was happy to get away from the woman. He felt for her, he really did, but as he'd thought before, he wasn't the best at caretaking.  
"Yes sir? Whatcha need?" Eric asked.   
"The cane you recovered had a serial number on it. We already sent it out, and we got a match. I want you and Humphries to go to the cane company. There is an employee waiting there to speak to you."  
"Uh, I think Alan's in the middle of something." Eric said, pointing at the woman.  
Mr. Spears sighed. "Sutcliffe, take over for Humphries."  
Grelle made a disappointed noise at the prospect of leaving Mr. Spears' side, but she obeyed.   
"If you ever have someone you love, pray this never happens to you." The woman wailed as Alan slowly stepped back, looking pained.  
"You alright?" Eric asked.  
"Yes, I just wish I could do more to ease her suffering." Alan said. "Come on, no point dwelling on it."  
They had only walked a few feet before being stopped again. "So, where are you two love birds off to?" Grey was leaning against a fence, still looking bored.   
Eric felt his face burn. "We're not-"  
"We're going to check up on a lead." Alan said. "I don't suppose you care to join us?"  
"Nah, I got my own leads." Grey said, standing up. "I was just curious where you were going. Wouldn't want to keep secrets from partners now, would we?" he grinned before walking back over towards the apartment.

"I really don't know what to think about him." Alan admitted once they were a solid distance away.   
"The man's a hero, there's no denying that." Eric said. "And he has his moments of being decently funny."  
"But other than that...?"  
"Yeah, I don't know what to make of him." Eric laughed. "Ron certainly has taste."  
Alan rolled his eyes. "Oh god, that's not the worst of it. I swear he constantly tries to outdo himself."  
"He should start a dating blog." Eric said.   
Alan shot him an incredulous look before bursting into laughter. "Dating? I think you mean something along the lines of "The Playboy's Guide to One Night Stands." He hasn't held down a stable relationship since I met him!"  
Eric shook his head. "I love the guy, but Christ on a log. I bet he could get himself a good one if he tried."  
Alan nodded. "Mhm, he is quite the looker isn't he. I've always found him cute and charming. Not really my type though. My inner introvert could never keep up with him. I'd probably spontaneously combust."  
Eric snorted. "Yeah, I think anyone would." Then it hit him. "Wait, you're-"  
"Gay? Mhm." Alan said casually. "Problem with that?"  
"What! No! Not at all!" Eric said quickly. "I swear-"  
"Eric, I'm kidding." Alan said. "Ok, I think I need to take it easy on you before you're the one who spontaneously combusts!"  
Eric felt his smile return. "Yeah, my poor heart, you bloody savage."  
"I'm ever so sorry. Shall we take a break from walking so you recover?" Alan said teasingly.   
"Well now seems to be the perfect time to mention how bloody outrageous walking across London is." Eric complained.  
"Oh come now, it's exercise! You can't tell me that that amount of muscle you've got there came naturally."  
"Ah, but it did." Eric said, flexing. "Quite a surprise at the hospital."  
Alan had to stop walking he was laughing so hard. "I've said it before and I'll say it again. You, Eric Slingby, are very unique. In a good way."  
"Thank you for the clarification." Eric said, giving him a mock bow. "My heart appreciates it."  
Alan wiped the tears from his eyes with a sigh. "So, you're a brilliant detective who's cursed to say the most brilliant things around me, as well as a muscular-marble-statue-esque baby."  
"Correct." Eric said, grinning.   
"Well now, then you've got to tell me more." Alan said.  
"Come again?"  
"Tell me more about yourself. I've never gotten the chance to really get to know you. We might as well soften the outrage of walking with decent conversation."  
This was a first for Eric. Most people weren't interested in his past. He didn't put it past Grelle and Ronald, the two were just too distracted with talking about whatever came into their heads to ask.   
"Well, what do you want to know?" Eric asked, shoving his hands in his pockets.   
"Where you're from for starters."  
"You mean you can't tell?" Eric said, making his accent as strong as possible.  
Alan laughed again. "Yes, you're from Scotland, but where in Scotland?"  
"You wouldn't have heard of it. It was a town on the outskirts of Glasgow. Kind of a slum if you know what I mean." Eric said. "We had plenty of three things. Violence, anger, and liquor. Living the dream."  
"Is that why you left?" Alan asked. Eric was surprised. There wasn't any offhand jokes, or "I'm sorrys", Alan just kept going.   
"Yeah, part of it. Most of my family's born and raised there. We're kind of famous for being burnouts. The farthest most of us have ever gone was to the next town over to drop out of the local high school. Call me ambitious but I didn't want to sit around forever in a tiny flat crammed full of people who never shower. And it smells like cabbage."  
Alan laughed. "Well that's the killing blow."  
"I'm serious!" Eric said, grinning. "Everything smells like cabbage! It's disgusting!"  
"Never been one for cabbage myself, so I can only imagine." Alan said. "Tell me more?"  
Maybe it was the earnest way Alan asked, maybe it wasn't, but Eric continued. "I was the first one to graduate in three generations. The only one before was my Grammy, and she's a bit senile. Eighty three." Eric knew he was rambling, but he didn't mind. "That meant I was the only one who could get a decent job. I did pretty well for about two years. And then something about watching people drink away your tiny paycheck does something to you."  
Alan only nodded, and Eric took that as permission to continue.  
"I started doing the same. Bloody stupid of me. Alcoholism runs in my family if that weren't obvious. Soon I was at the bar more than I was anywhere else. Picked up a girl there, got in a so called relationship, and drank my life away."  
"But you stopped." Alan said. "I mean, look at you now."  
"Yeah, but it took a disaster for that to happen. We got in a fight, me and the girl. I was drunk, and for the first time in my life I raised a hand to someone out of drunken rage. That changed everything. I was just like my old man then, just like everyone else in my family. I'd been acting like I was so special for getting through basic schooling. It only took a little bit of drinking and a little fight for me to see otherwise."   
"Oh, Eric..."  
"I swore of drinking after that. Haven't touched a drop since. But getting out was harder than that. The second my old man caught wind of the fact that I was thinking about leaving, he did his damndest to make sure that never happened. Can't walk out if your legs are broken, right?" Eric laughed bitterly. "He made me propose to the girl. She'd never leave, and he knew I was trying to be moral. I'd never leave my wife right? And she wouldn't let me leave either. I know, it's pathetic. Me getting pushed around by a ninety pound girl."  
He felt a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. Somehow that gave him a push to continue.  
"Honestly, I thought about ending things myself. It's shit, but drinking got me through, and without it I was just numb. Fucking leeches." he spat bitterly. "So I made my escape. I saved up, hiding away a quarter of my paycheck each month. It took a while, but finally I took off. Haven't heard from any of them since. Well, they try but I haven't listened."  
He sighed, feeling as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. "Shit, I'm sorry. You weren't looking for a sob story were you?"  
"It's ok." Alan said. "Christ, you're incredibly brave."  
"You're talking to an abusive drunk."  
"You made the changes and you stuck with it." Alan said firmly. "That makes me admire you more than a man who never made the mistake in the first place."  
"I think that logic's flawed." Eric said.  
"Accept the compliment dammit." Alan said, poking him in the shoulder. "It'll take a lot more than that to scare me off, got it? We all have our pasts."  
"Yeah? What's yours?" Eric said.   
"Yikes, you sure you want a sob story?" Alan teased.   
"Can't be worse than me." Eric shrugged. He was trying for a joke but it fell flat.   
"Alright." Alan said. "Well reverse everything about your situation. I came from a fairly well off family. Only child, just my father and mother and me."  
"Sob story! You were loaded!" Eric said.  
"Money isn't everything." Alan said. "Money doesn't stop your father from having a mistress that tears the family apart. Money doesn't stop your mother from leaving without you. Money doesn't prepare you for being rejected when you try to come out at age fourteen."  
"Oh, shit." Eric said.   
Alan nodded. "Scared the hell out of me. My father did. I actually took it back, said it was a joke and went back to being the golden child. Studied, got the best grades, top of the class, even got a girlfriend. But here's the secret. She wasn't into men."  
"You little devil." Eric said.   
Alan smiled a little. "Yeah, we were rebellious. It wasn't enough though. My father wanted someone who was a little more manly than me. I've never had any interest in sports. I mean, I'm a walking twig. He had me try though. Naturally I was a failure. You know what money can do? Buy you a bunch of sketchy medications to make your son become more bulked up. Buy drugs that triggered an underlying genetic disease."  
"You got sick." Eric said softly.  
Alan nodded. "I got sick. Technically I always was. But the added strain of sports and whatever he had pumped into me was the final straw. The coughing and the shaking and the fevers and the random life threatening spells. On the bright side I haven't seen a football field since!"  
Eric had his arm around Alan now.  
"Unfortunately I was now "a fragile little baby." I was yanked out of school, forced to homeschool, and was facing a lovely little life of being treated like a glass doll. So I played my trump card. I came out again and didn't take it back. I know, aren't I dastardly."  
Eric couldn't help but chuckle.  
"So out I went. I went to college, got a job, got to work here and then I got sicker. First time I landed myself in the hospital was the last time I ever spoke to my father. he cut me off. I was alright, just had to spend wisely for a few months. The rest is history. Met Mr. Spears, got promoted, witnessed Grelle come out so I could give her the response everyone deserves, witnessed the time Ronald started a fire with a microwave and a bag of popcorn."  
"Is that where that charred spot on the wall came from?" Eric asked.  
Alan nodded. "He grabbed it with two pens, panicked, and threw it. Mr. Spears yanked down a curtain and stomped on it."  
"I can only imagine." Eric said, grinning. "But hey, you're fine the way you are. You may not be muscular and have a godly figure like I do, but you're smart as hell, witty, kind and I respect the hell out of you."  
"Well you're strong and brave and determined. You're not a bad person." Alan said.   
"You forgot brilliant." Eric said.  
Alan rolled his eyes. "We need to work on accepting compliments I see."  
"So do you!" Eric protested.   
"Fine, fine." Alan said. "Thank you for telling me though. I'm glad you trust me."  
"It appears you're not the one who started a fire with a bag of popcorn. And thanks for trusting me too."  
"What a pair we are, talking about our emotional trauma as we walk to go learn about a cane found at a crime scene!"  
"Yes, aren't we normal." Eric said. "Should I dance the rest of the way? Really get the stares going?"  
Alan snickered. "Only if you let me be your dance partner. I refuse to miss out on such glorious strangeness."  
"Shall we?" Eric said, extending his hand.   
"We shall." Alan said taking it.   
"So I have no idea how to dance." Eric said.  
Alan broke out laughing. "Neither do I. I took dance lessons about fifteen years ago."  
"Awwww."  
"I looked miserable the entire time." Alan laughed, shaking his head. "Ok, I think I remember a little bit actually. Here, put your other hand here..."

They ended up doing some strange movement loosely based on a waltz down the streets, laughing the entire time.  
"I think we're ready to take it to the stage!" Eric said, laughing.   
"Of course! Britain's got talent, here we come!"  
Both doubled over laughing again.  
"Um, excuse me?"  
Both turned to see an older man who looked very confused. "Are you the operatives sent from the crime scene?"  
"Um, yes, that we are." Eric said, straightening up.   
"I see." The man said skeptically. "Well, come on then. Follow me." he waved them towards a building.   
"We're so professional." Alan whispered, making Eric nearly choke from trying not to laugh.   
The old man shot them another strange look, which only made the effort to not laugh even harder.   
"Try to contain yourself, you're embarrassing me." Alan said teasingly  
"You're the one who almost fell into the street." Eric said back.   
"Shh, we're never mentioning that again." Alan said grinning. "Come on, I'd hate to see the look on Mr. Spears' face when he hears that his operatives spent the afternoon dancing in the street."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this got a lot longer than I indented XD  
> I started having a lot of fun writing, and then I just kept going. I think I did ok in the relationship department, what do you guys think? If you have any feedback, I'd love to hear it. Either way, thank you so much for reading, and I hope everyone seeing this has a wonderful day!


	14. 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends! I hope everyone's having a good day. Here's the latest chapter. Once again I've failed on uploading...  
> Anywho, shameless self promotion time. So I just remade my deviantart and if you guys want to check out my art or send a request or whatever, that would be much appreciated! I haven't drawn any black butler stuff yet, but I'm going to indefinitely XD (It's Livitup03)
> 
> Anywho, shameless self promotion over. Chapter time! I hope you all enjoy.

"We've been making canes ever since the Victorian Era." the old man said as he lead them through the darkened building. "It's been in my family since it opened." he added proudly. "The front half is the actual shop and viewing area. The back half is the factory where it's all made. Yes indeed, they're all handmade. Not a single cane has left this store without being through my hands ever since I inherited the place."  
Eric nodded. He had an appreciation for family owned businesses like this. He envied families that had a lineage of success. The only job legacy he could see his family having would be a rent-a-drunk service. He could imagine the ads now. "  
Is your bar too quiet? Is your tavern lacking that unique chaos only larger establishments have? Well you're in luck? Call 1-800-Useless people to rent your first drunk now! If a brawl isn't started in forty five minutes, then a full refund is guaranteed! Low rates! Excellent deals! Will accept pay in drinks!"   
Eric laughed to himself at the thought. The old man gave him an irritated look and Eric shut up, trying to look professional.   
"I remember every cane I've ever made and sold." the old man continued. "Every one of them has a story, and I can tell them all. Like this one here." he picked up a scratched cane laying on a workbench. "Sold in the early nineteen eighties. Had a bad run in with an excited Rottweiler. I'll fix her up just fine. Or this beauty. Had a long life with an old lady who had a hunched back. Lady passed away recently, and now I'll fix her up too, and give her a nice new home."  
"That's very impressive." Alan said politely. "I can tell you're a man who knows his craft. Your input will be extremely valuable to us."   
The old man beamed. Alan's polite, professional charm had won another victory. "You've certainly come to the right place! Now then, let's go on back to my office. Would either of you lads like anything to eat? I'm sure I've got something that's only a little stale. How about you, big fella? You look like you could eat a horse!

Once comfortably seated in the old man's surprisingly nice office, Eric got down to business. With a dry biscuit in one hand, and the case file in the other, he started off the questioning. "So, you got the pieces of that cane back, yeah?"  
The old man nodded. "I certainly did." he reached under his desk and pulled out a sleek leather box. He undid the clasps and opened it like a guitar case, revealing the shattered pieces of the cane. Despite still being in pieces, the wood had been polished and shone like it was brand new. "I had to clean it to get a good look at it. Hope you don't mind."  
Eric looked at Alan who shrugged. Hopefully the lab had collected all the evidence they needed. However, Eric had the strangest feeling that this eccentric old man might provide more information than the lab ever could.   
"I'll take by your silence that I wasn't supposed to do that." The old man chuckled. "I've never been much interested in crime myself. Too gory and depressing for me. You always want to focus on the positives, that's what my Anna said. She passed on almost three years ago now. I almost died myself from grief. But even without her I try to look at the positives. That way it's like she's still with me." The old man beamed.   
Eric decided he liked the old fellow. He gave off a grandfatherly vibe. "That's the spirit! I like that. Anna must have been a real charmer."  
"She was, that she was." The old man said wistfully. "Anyways, I'd best be shutting my yap before we get lost down memory lane. You two don't give a damn about an old man's tale of woe. You want to hear this little beauty's story." he pet the cane lovingly. "Well then, ask away!"   
"You recognized the exact cane, correct?" Alan asked. "When it was sent out to find a match, you responded within minutes."  
"Of course I did! I already told you, I remember every cane I ever sold and made. I try to keep track of them too. To this date, I know the location of every one of them canes! In fact, I remembered this one well. I made it myself."  
"You did?" Eric asked.   
"Yes sir! Way back when I was just a little older than you. Well now, that must have been close to sixty years ago! I'm terrible with dates, but I do know my canes." the old man reassured.   
"Sixty years?" Eric asked. "Are you sure?" if that was true, than the owner of the cane would have to be rather old.   
"Mhm, made it and sold it to the earl Phantomhive. That's earl, innit? I'm not sure. Anyways it was a custom order. I made it special."  
"Victor Phantomhive?" Alan asked. The old man shook his head.  
"Oh no, I made it for his father. It was passed down to young Victor when he took over the family estate. I was ever so proud. Imagine, one of my canes being a family heirloom!"  
"That's quite impressive." Alan said. "Have you seen the cane since you sold it?"  
"Mhm, the eldest Mr. Phantomhive came in four times for repairs before he passed it on. Victor came in and I adjusted it for him, making it more his, you know? I added the darker gloss then, and a thin handle, more like a suitcase. It was silver."  
"I see." Alan said, writing something down. "Any more times after that?"  
"Yes indeed. Victor came in for repairs and adjustments three times. Nothing major. The last time he brought it in was around, say, eight years ago maybe? He had his little boy with him."  
Eight was a hell of a lot better than sixty. Eric found himself becoming increasingly impressed with the old man's memory. "And that was the last time you saw it? Eight years ago?"  
"Oh no." The man said, shaking his head. I last saw it seven months ago."  
"What?" Alan asked.  
"Mhm, the little boy came in with that butler of his. He's older, but still so little. He was so little that the cane was too big for him! I sanded off some and changed the handle again." the man tapped the silver ball with a gnarled finger. "To this. Fit's nicely in the palm of the hand, plus I think it's fashionable. Put the pieces together, and it would look exactly like it did the day I last saw it. He's taken remarkable care of it. Well, until now."  
"Until it was broken by somebody." Alan said.   
"Oh no, he broke it. That I'm sure of." the old man said. "The cane's story has grown quite a lot since I last saw it. And it's telling me that the boy broke her."  
"You can hear it?" Eric blurted, before he could realize how stupid that sounded.   
The old man laughed. "Not exactly hear as in you're hearing me now, but she does speak to me. Allow me to translate. Here" he pointed to a large split "Is where she first broke. I know he done it because you'd have to grip here and here with small little hands, and then bring it down with a grand old crack to split her like that." he looked to Eric. "Here, maybe this'll help. My canes are strong, but they aren't invincible. If a big guy like you had done it, it would have splintered into much smaller pieces."   
"Interesting." Alan mused. "So he hit something with the cane hard enough for it to break.   
"Mhm, and he was wearing gloves." the old man said, nodding.   
"How the hell do you know that?" Eric asked.  
"Because if he didn't he would have gotten some splinters or some cuts. He would have gotten a fine bit of blood on it."  
"There was a lot of blood though, how can you be sure?" Alan asked.  
"The blood wasn't on the splintered parts." the man said. "Just the part that would have made impact, and the part that rolled into blood."  
"I see." Alan said, writing more. "What else can you tell us."  
"I can tell that she was used as a weapon before she broke." the old man said, pointing to smaller cracks. "She was swung at someone and was caught by two larger hands, here and here. Not as big as you big fella, bigger than a kid but smaller than you. And those same big hands tore off the handle."  
"So you're saying there was a struggle." Alan said.   
The old man nodded. "Here's the story lads. She'd been taken care of extremely well ever since I last saw her, until last night. She was walked in somewhere all nice and gentle, but then she was swung at someone as a weapon. She was caught and stopped, and someone tried to wrench her from her master's grasp. Her handle was yanked off instead, and it would take a lot of force to do that. Whoever was yanking on her was fighting hard. But he lost. She don't know all the details, but at some point she was driven down into something hard. And she splintered. She was left in pieces, soaking in blood until she came to me." the old man fixed them with a firm stare. "The young Lord Phantomhive was the one who wielded her, that much I'm sure."

Eric had a lot on his mind as they left the shop. Alan had gotten the man's contact information for a potential court battle.   
"Are we sure the old man really had that all right?" Eric asked, turning to Alan. "Or was he just messing with us. That was a pretty serious allegation."  
"He pointed out specific parts of the cane as proof." Alan said. "I'd say that makes it more likely, but I know what you mean. However..." he trailed off before holding up his phone to Eric.   
It was a digital copy of the autopsy report. It must have come in while they were talking.   
"Look." Alan said grimly. "The cause of death is blood loss, but according to the state of his skull..."  
"Bloody hell. He suffered blunt force trauma." Eric said.   
"The cane was the only thing that could have inflicted that. And if the old man says only Phantomhive could have done it, I'd say that's worth a look."  
It was chilling the way Alan addressed the earl, like he was an adult. "But he's a bloody kid!"  
"You aren't from around here so you wouldn't have heard the chatter." Alan said. "Word on the street is that the kid's changed."  
"He went through a traumatic experience! Of course he changed!"   
"I'm just saying, it might be possible. Some people come into the world evil. Even the most infamous killers were children once." Alan said.   
"Oh yeah? The uniform found was adult sized. So was the figure in the tofu place." Eric said.   
"Maybe he's not doing it alone." Alan said. "Maybe he's the killer, maybe he's not. The point is he was there last night, and we need to look into it."  
"Yeah." Eric sighed, crossing his arms. "Sorry for snapping."  
"You weren't snapping." Alan said. "It's alright. I get bloody stressed over these things sometimes."  
"You seem calm to me." Eric said.  
"Well then, I'll be sure to send you a picture the next time I'm having a panic attack in my closet." Alan laughed, before noticing Eric staring at him. "What? Are you one of those madmen who thinks panic attacks are better suited for bathrooms? I'll take a nice dark closet thank you."  
Eric shook his head. "You're a twisted individual with that humor."  
"Downright wicked." Alan said, smirking.   
"But hey, if you ever need anyone to talk to, you can always talk to me." Eric said, shoving his hands in his pockets.  
"You do that when you're uncomfortable, don't you." Alan said, miming shoving his hands in his pockets.   
"What? Oh hell, yeah I do. I didn't think you'd notice. I actually started doing that because my other response was more obvious. I'd wring my hands." Eric said. There he went again with the rambling.  
"I drum my fingers on things. It drives everyone around me to insanity." Alan laughed. "But hey, I think it works. If I can't be comfortable, no one can."  
"Bloody twisted!" Eric crowed. Before he realized what he was doing, he was playfully pushing Alan to the side by the head.   
"Aack! Not fair! You're so much taller than me!" Alan laughed, swatting his hand away. He raised an eyebrow as Eric's hands returned to their respective pockets. "Alright, spit it out. Am I making you uncomfortable?"  
"No!" Eric said. "Really, you're not. I'm just a disaster in comfort situations. I don't want to say something stupid, you know?"  
"I'm not made of glass Eric." Alan said. "If I bring something like that up, panic attacks was it? And it's in the form of a joke, I'm comfortable talking about it."  
"That doesn't mean I can't still fuck it up." Eric said. "And maybe you're one of those people who makes jokes to hide their pain." Eric pointed a finger at Alan as his expression changed. "Aha! I'm right aren't I!?"  
Alan shook his head, smiling. "Can't get anything past you can't I? Alright, I can't confirm anything, but maybe I do that sometimes. I can't confirm though, and sometimes I really am just joking."  
"Noted." Eric said, miming scribbling in a notebook. "Subject uses dark humor as shield."  
"Oh, so I'm a subject now, am I?" Alan laughed. "And just when I thought we were bonding!"   
Eric turned quickly as his face heated up. Were they bonding? Eric certainly hoped so.  
"And hey, even if you're a disaster in those situations, you still offered to help. That means a lot." Alan said.   
"Anything so I don't mess up with you." Eric said, before cursing himself. Why had he said that?"  
"You're not messing up with me." Alan said. "Really you're not." Eric shrugged and Alan spoke up again. "Subject has self confidence issues in relationships. I see, I see."  
"Relationship?" Eric spluttered. "I don't! Look at me and Ronald!"  
"Ronald's probably the easiest person to talk to in the world." Alan laughed. "And you're telling me that you never think about if something you said would make him hate you?"  
"Guess I can't get anything past you either." Eric said, running a hand through his hair.   
"Well don't worry. Your secret's safe with me." Alan said. "And really, you're not messing up with me. I don't talk this much even with Grelle or Ronald. Usually I'm rather quiet. I've talked this whole time with you without feeling the slightest bit worn out."  
"You? Quiet? I don't believe it." Eric said, a mock accusatory tone decorating his voice.  
"But it's true! I swear, your honor!" Alan said, holding his hands up.   
Eric mimed banging a gavel, but ended up accidentally whacking a mailbox, sending it clattering to the ground. "OW! Uh oh."  
"Oh my god!" Alan said, laughing. "How strong are you?"  
"Not as strong as you think. That hurt." Eric said, rubbing his hand. He set the mailbox haphazardly on top of a bush. "There, good as new, yeah? You can't even tell a difference."  
Alan leaned on the bare mailbox post. "Good as new."

"Hey." Alan said. They had been walking and chatting for the last fifteen minutes. "You mentioned liking cooking shows."  
Uh oh. Eric vaguely remembered this specific lack of masculinity. "Uhh..."  
"There's this one I saw, but instead of making quality food, they make it as terrible as possible. I might just be weird, but that sounds bloody hilarious to me. You should watch it with me so I can drag you down too."  
"Sure." Eric said. "I bet I could compete on that show." he spread his arms wide. "The amazing chef Eric! For my next trick, I'll fuck up toasting toast!"  
Alan snickered. "I'll text you the times. Wait, do I have your number? I probably do but I don't have your name on it...here I'll give you mine. Text me or something.   
Eric entered the number in his phone, which came up with a blank contact. He'd gotten everyone's numbers when he started working, but he'd only filled in Ronald's contact. He texted, "hello, I am a sketchy stranger."  
Alan checked his phone and snorted. "Oh, how suspicious."   
Eric laughed. Alan texted back a terrified looking smiley face. "Oh no, you're one of those freaks who communicates through phone hieroglyphics."  
"Phone heiro-oh dear lord." Alan laughed. "If I want to express myself through little yellow emoticons, I'll very well do it!"

Eric was currently rushing through the halls of the office looking for Ronald. Ever since he and Alan had returned and parted ways, he'd had a funny feeling in his stomach.   
Eric heard a clunk from a nearby closet and rapped on the door. "Ron? You in there?"  
The door swung open revealing Ronald and a red faced secretary. "Mate! If the closet's rocking, you don't come knocking!"  
"It's an emergency." Eric said.   
Ronald sighed, turning to the girl. "Sorry love, bros before ho---wholly beautiful ladies."  
"Nice save." Eric said as the secretary walked back down the hall. "Thank god you're wearing pants by the way."  
"It was just a little snogging. I have a better closet for the fun stuff." Ronald said, raising his eyebrows.   
"You're a degenerate." Eric said, pushing Ronald into his office before closing the door. "I have a question."  
"Yes. It really is eight inches." Ronald said seriously.   
"No dammit!" Eric said, chucking a pen at him. "This is serious."  
"And I'm serious. It really is-" he stopped at the look on Eric's face. "Yeah, not the time for jokes. What's on your mind?" Ronald dropped into Eric's chair, spinning in lazy circles.   
"How did you know." Eric said.   
"Know what?" Eric could see Ronald physically resisting the urge to make a joke. He surprisingly deeply appreciated the effort.   
"That you swung both ways." Eric said awkwardly, making a swinging motion with his hands.   
"What? Ohhhh." Ronald said. "Do they not have same sex couples in Ireland?"  
"I'm from Scotland you dimwit." Eric said. "And I'm freaking out. How did you know?"  
"Wait why are you freaking out?"  
"Just answer me, please." Eric begged.   
"Ok, ok. I dunno. I guess it was back in high school to be honest. When I realized that I would just as happily get with Rachel Smith's twin brother as I would with her. God, they were beautiful."  
"Ronald!"  
"Sorry, sorry. I don't know mate. I guess you just know. It wasn't a big thing for me." Ronald shrugged. "I was already picking up chicks. I just expanded my horizon to guys too."  
That made sense. Ronald didn't seem to have been raised in a place where anything remotely non traditionally masculine was mocked and deemed wrong.   
"Why're you asking? You're not my type." Ronald said. Eric threw another pen at him.  
"No damn you! Maybe I'm catching feelings for someone else, ok?"  
"MR. SPEARS!" Ronald yelled. "I DIDN'T KNOW YOU HAD A THING FOR HARDASSES!"  
"SHUT UP!" Eric yelled. "Please."  
"It's Alan isn't it." Ronald said. "I was joking on the Spears thing. If that was true you'd be dead by Grelle's hand. But anywho, it's him right? You do have chemistry."  
"We do?" Eric asked brightly. Dammit, compose yourself! "I mean, Guess we do."  
"Awww." Ronald teased. "First time catching feels for a bloke? You mentioned having a girlfriend right?"  
"Fiancé." Eric corrected. "And I don't know Ron. I'm questioning everything now."  
"It's a rush, innit?" Ronald said. "I guess the question is, would you rather shove your dick in someone, or have someone shove their dick in you?"  
"RONALD!" Eric yelled, scrambling for another pen.   
"Sorry, sorry. You're really having a hard time with this huh?" his tone softened. "So what are you feeling? What feels wrong?"  
Eric sighed and leaned back. "Christ, I don't know. I'm gonna sound like a sleazebag but guys who want to get with other guys are pansies."  
Ronald shrugged. "I've been called worse."  
"You know what I mean!" Eric said. "I dunno! I've just been used to putting things in two categories. Good and manly, and not that. I never had to think about this back home! And now...I don't know."  
"Am I a pansy?" Ronald asked, batting his eyelashes. "Am I so hideously un-masculine I resemble...a sea slug? I think those don't have dicks." He appeared to think about it.   
"No, you're not. That's what I'm seeing." Eric sighed. "You, Alan, Gray, you aren't that. You're just people."  
"Bingo!" Ronald said, spinning in the chair.   
"And Sascha and Grelle. Grelle's..."  
"Always been a female inside." Ronald said, nodding.   
Eric nodded back. "And Sascha's..."  
"A mystery to be honest." Ronald said, laughing. "Really mate, I don't know! And I don't know how to find out without being creepy. I just call them a they. It works. Sascha's Sascha."  
"And they're people too." Eric said. "Oh no. I'm homophobic."  
"A homophobe wouldn't say the stuff about being people." Ronald said. "I don't think it's about you being a homophobe. I think you're only a homophobe to yourself."  
"What?"  
"Uhh...I'll draw a diagram." He drew two male stick figures holding hands, and drew a smiley face over them. "This is your opinion on lgbtq folks who aren't you." He drew another pair of stick figures, this time giving one Eric's hair and glasses. This time he drew a frowny face over the stick figures. "And this is your opinion on you being an lgbtq...folk." he paused. "Wait, what the fuck is the singular version of folks?"  
"Bloody fucking hell." Eric sighed. "I think you're right."  
"So it is folk? That doesn't sound right."  
"No." Eric said, running his hand through his hair again. "I think it is a problem with myself."  
"And that's ok." Ronald said. "You just gotta think through it. Here, what made you realize you had a thing for Alan?"  
"I dunno." Eric said. "I think when I first saw him a part of me was attracted to him. He's really kind and sweet, and devilishly funny. But I think it really hit me today. I've been feeling all fluttery since I met him, but today's when I got it."  
"Ok." Ronald said. "How so?"  
"Well, we spent a lot of one on one time today." Eric said. "We talked about deep shit, we just connected, you know?"  
Ronald nodded. "Yeah. Bloody hell. Now I'm jealous." he laughed.   
"What for?"  
"Well, I don't think I've connected like that in a long while." Ronald shrugged. "Take it from me mate, and this isn't a joke. When you feel something like that, don't ignore it. I'd go for it."  
"I think I want to." Eric said, shoving his hands in his pockets. "But christ."  
"Well, what's holding you back?" Ronald asked. "Like I said, it's like expanding your horizons, and Alan's kind of feminine, you know?"  
"I don't think I've ever been attracted to girls in the first place." Eric said. "I've had girlfriends, a lot of em. And I never felt anything like this."  
"Oh." Ronald said. "Well, that's alright too. It's a good thing mate. You weren't happy in those relationships."  
"Christ." Eric sighed. "Look at me. There's a murderer on the loose and I'm having issues."  
"Hey, it's ok. It's a big deal." Ronald said. "I see it this way. You like what you like and that's that. There's nothing wrong with it. Unless it's like, a child, or a corpse. Or an animal-"  
"Ok, thank you. I get it." Eric said, shaking his head. "I dunno. I'm gonna have to think on it."  
"Sorry. I'm kind of a failure at the counseling thing." Ronald said. "Talk to Grelle, she had more of a revelation than I did. I literally just went. "Huh. Bisexual. Ok." and kept on living."  
"Hey, you're listening to me. And you did say some good things. Thanks." Eric said.   
"No problem buddy. Like I said, bros before ho's, and whatever the male variant of ho is. And nonbinary hos. And any hos."  
Eric clapped him on the shoulder. "I'm glad I met you. Really. I don't think I've ever had a friend like you before."  
Ronald clapped Eric's shoulder back. "I don't think I've ever met anyone as tall as you before."  
They looked into each others eyes. They were very close together. Ronald's eyes were a darker green.  
"Kiss me Eric." Ronald said in a high pitched voice. Eric shoved him and Ronald stumbled back, cackling.   
"YOU MADE IT WEIRD!" Eric yelled, throwing a whole handful of pens.  
Ronald was doubled over, wheezing. "I'm sorry, I couldn't resist."  
"I take it back, you're a prick." Eric said, grabbing Ronald and mussing his hair.   
"Ow! Hey stop that took a lot of hair gel!" Ronald protested. When Eric released him, Ronald's hair was sticking up like a cactus. "God dammit Eric." he sighed. "But hey. Is it true?" Ronald fluttered his eyelashes. "I'm your vewy best fwiend?"  
"And out you go." Eric said, opening the office door.   
Ronald laughed. "Yeah, ok. But hey."  
"What now?" Eric asked, bracing himself for another joke.   
"Alan's a good guy. You're safe with him, ok?" Ronald said. "And for the record, I won't tell anyone. It's your thing to tell."  
Eric nodded. "Shit, I really appreciate that."  
Ronald grinned. "I'm just so kind. Oh, and speaking of closests." he imitated Mr. Spears' voice while shaking a finger. "If the closet's rocking, you don't come knocking!"  
Eric laughed. "You want to get coffee or something? We're on down time as far as I know."  
"Methinks I've been asked out on a date." Ronald said. "However shall I accept?"  
"Or not."  
"Hey, woah, coffee's my lifeblood. I'm with you." Ronald said. "We can check out hot guys at the cafe."  
"I hate you!"  
"But I wuv you."  
Eric shoved him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there's that! I thought an interaction between Ronald and Eric about feelings would be funny, but also it would work really well. I feel like Ronald's the kind of person who just says whatever comes into his head, but he also genuinely would want to help. He'd tease Eric, but he'd be supportive. 
> 
> So yeah, I went for that angle. I mean, you'd know. You just read it XD
> 
> Anyways, if you've read this far, thank you so much for reading. It's really appreciated. If you have any feedback, feel free to leave a comment. I'd love to hear it. I'll see you guys next time. I hope everyone reading this has a lovely day!!!


	15. 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Sorry for the late update...again...yeah I think we're all starting to realize how this is going to go...
> 
> Anyways, I hope everyone is well and I hope you enjoy the new chapter!!

Eric had never felt so uncomfortable in his life. It was ironic that he would feel so ill at ease in the middle of the massive mansion with its elaborate decorations and fancy style, but here he was.   
He, Grelle, Ronald and Alan were the "lucky few" who were instructed to go directly to the Phantomhive Manor to request a word with the young master himself. Eric was initially excited at the prospect of seeing how England's richest lived, but the moment he had entered the threshold, he had just felt...wrong.  
Ronald and Alan also stiffened as they were lead through the hallway by an old man. Grelle however, seemed to come alive with excitement, chattering about this and that. "I used to be a butler you know." she said happily. "I was abysmal at it, but it was fun."  
Eric met Alan's eyes. He had to look a little deeper to see the slight nervousness in the brunette's eyes. Ever since yesterday's conversation with Ronald, Eric had been paying special attention to Alan.   
It didn't help that every time he caught Ronald's eye, the blonde would raise his eyebrows. Eric subtly flipped him off.   
The four were seated in a waiting room of sorts, and their elderly guide vanished back into the depths of the house. Eric looked around, nervously drumming his fingers on his leg. Ronald was bouncing his, and Alan was sitting stiffly, as if he'd been sat on a chair of nails instead of the plush structure it actually was.   
"Oh, do calm down darlings." Grelle said, rolling her eyes. "You're perfectly safe with me."  
"Oi, Ron, how many servants did you see on the way in?" Eric asked suddenly.   
Grelle shook her head. "They're called staff Eric. What do you think this is? The Victorian Era?"  
"I dunno, two or three? There was the old bloke, I saw a younger one outside, and a maid." Ronald shrugged.   
"Seems like an awfully small amount for a house this size." Eric said, looking at Alan and Grelle.  
Alan nodded. "Add that to the list of questions we're going to ask."  
Ronald sighed, slumping back. "We're gonna die in here."  
"I hope that remark wasn't made in response to our food service. I assure you I asked our chef to bring you out some snacks." a tall, raven haired figure dressed in a fine pressed suit entered and stood before them. Eric felt a chill run down his spine.   
"We're fine thank you, my coworker was just excited to get this started. We're on a tight schedule after all." Alan said, polite but curt. He briefly glanced at the others, giving them a look that clearly said "don't eat anything."  
"Very well. The young master will be out shortly. He is finishing a business matter. For the time being, may I fetch you anything? Drinks perhaps?"   
"What're you supposed to be anyways? The waiter?" Ronald asked. Eric could have kicked him.  
The man chuckled darkly. "Not at all. I'm the butler, Sebastian Michaelis."  
"He's sexy." Eric heard Grelle say. He shot her an incredulous look.   
"Yes, we've heard of you." Alan said, selling the mysterious act. "Many witnesses we've inquired have mentioned Mr. Phantomhive being followed by a butler."  
"I'm afraid I'm not entirely sure who you are. Is this a legal matter? I assure you that I have kept the young master out of any and all trouble." the butler, Sebastian said.   
"I would love to take you on your word, but unfortunately that is not our protocol. We're with the CCCMC, I'm sure you're familiar with it? We're special investigative forces. A current case has lead us to your door. I'd elaborate, but I feel as if it is best to wait for the witness in question before we go on." Alan said. He was the picture of calm, despite the slight nervousness only someone that knew him could pick up in his voice.  
"I see." Sebastian said softly. Eric could have sworn the room had dropped a few degrees. "I will go see if he's ready for you. Please, make yourselves comfortable." with a slight bow, the mysterious butler gracefully stepped back out of the room.   
"Oh he's sketchy as all hell." Ronald said.   
"I believe you mean sexy." Grelle chimed in.   
"Oh hell no! He seems skeevy!"   
"In that case I'm almost certain that he'd be your type."  
"Hey!"  
"Shhh." Alan said, gesturing for them to quiet down. "I have a strange feeling as well. We need to proceed with caution."  
At that moment, a red haired maid with thick spectacles wheeled a tray of food into the room. Ronald eyed the cakes longingly. Alan however, eyed the maid. "Ronald." he said softly. Ronald perked up and nodded.  
"Woah! These are beautiful! Did you make them?" he turned to the maid who turned scarlet.   
"Oh, no sir!" she squeaked. "I'm just bringing em out, yes I am."  
"An important job nonetheless." Ronald said, turning on the charm. "Say love, how many staff members work here?"  
"Oh, just five." the maid said. Ronald nodded as if this was the most engaging thing he'd ever heard.   
"That so? However do you manage this big house then? You must have quite the skills."  
The maid turned redder still. "It's really just Sebastian! He does a lot of the work himself, b-but the rest of us still do things too!"  
"I'm sure you do." Ronald laughed. "Hey, what can you tell me about him anyways? How'd someone get that good of a butler?"  
"I don't know." the maid said, shaking her head. "He appeared out of nowhere after the accident, like an angel he did. I-Oh! Hello Sebastian! Young master!" the maid stumbled into an awkward curtsey.   
"Mey-Rin, you are dismissed." Sebastian said. The maid practically dashed out of the room.   
"Why, may I ask, are you speaking to my maid?" a cold voice asked. Sebastian stepped aside to reveal a child dressed as an adult. Despite his young age, he was fitted in attire appropriate for a business man. In his presence, Eric felt woefully insignificant.   
"Hey, you know how it is." Ronald said, settling back into his carefree self. "I mean, do you?"  
"What is this about?" the Master Phantomhive asked, settling into a chair. He sounded bored. Eric felt a sudden flash of irritation. A child looking down on him? That didn't feel great.   
"We're terribly sorry to be taking your time, but we're here on especially serious business." Alan said. He eyed Sebastian. "I must ask that your butler leave the room. We are only allowed to discuss this with the individual in question, that being you."  
Eric knew that this was coming. They had discussed the plan before arriving. Separate the butler from the master, and see if that helped. If not, they'd call Sebastian back. Eric remembered Grey's words about Sebastian weirding him out. He was starting to understand what that had meant.   
"Where I go, he goes." the lord Phantomhive said firmly.   
"Sorry, I do hope you'll comply." Alan said calmly. "Otherwise I'd have to go into legalities. Either he leaves, or I make him leave." he smiled as he said this. Eric felt the urge to applaud. Alan may not be able to handle crowds well, but he could handle suspects like a master.   
"Very well." Sebastian said, bowing. "I'll be right outside the door, my master."  
"Actually, I'll be keeping you company." Grelle said, hopping to her feet. "We have a few questions for you, and I have a few...special ones." she looped her arm through Sebastian's. The butler looked disgusted, which made Eric want to punch him.   
"Divide and conquer." Alan nodded. "Soon as we finish with both of you, we'll be out of your hair."   
"Fine." the young master said.   
"Excellent! I was thinking we'd take a stroll through the garden. Come along now!" Grelle said, dragging Sebastian with her. Eric had been worried about leaving her alone with a suspect, (although Mr. Spears still refused to acknowledge the butler as an official suspect) but somehow Eric knew she could handle herself. He'd taken up his concerns with Ronald, only to have the blonde say, "Spears is cruel, but he wouldn't send someone into a situation if he wasn't sure they could come out on top." Eric supposed that had to mean something.   
"Let's get this over with." the child sighed. "This is about some killings?"  
"You're Ciel Phantomhive, aren't you?" Alan asked, pulling out a notepad. Eric knew it was for show. There were tape recorders in all three of their pockets. Upon asking if that was illegal, Grelle gave Eric the same answer the company had been given when the Undertaker first introduced the method. "Well of course!"  
"Yes, I am Ciel Phantomhive. Is that not obvious?"  
"May I call you Ciel?" Alan asked pleasantly.   
"No."  
"Alright Ciel, I have a few basic questions to start out." Alan said, displaying his mischievous brand of speaking, unique to him. Ciel's face twisted into a scowl, which pleased Eric. Alan one, brat zero.  
"Very well."  
"I'd ask where you were on the night of the most recent murder, but we already know that." Alan said. "Everyone in this room knows you were there." he kept his tone pleasant, as if they were discussing the weather.   
Eric saw Ciel stiffen slightly. "That's preposterous."   
"That's what I thought too." Alan said, nodding, writing something on the pad. "But please Ciel, let's not play childish games."  
At the word childish, Ciel's fist clenched. "If you're so confident, where is your proof?"   
"Oh, we have plenty. We confirmed it yesterday." Alan said.   
"You're lying."  
"Aren't we all adults here?" Alan asked. "Oh, sorry, no we're not. My apologies, I've been conducting this as if you were an adult." he made his voice softer. "Is this better?"  
Ciel slammed a fist on the arm of his chair. "You will treat me with respect worthy of my status!"   
Alan tilted the pad so only Eric could see it. He'd written, "now". That was the signal to start getting under the Earl's skin. Eric had thought that was a touch cruel, but after witnessing the earl for himself, his conscious was eased. Luckily, he and Ronald were just the men for this job.   
"Bold words for a twelve year old, ey Ron?" Eric said, making eye contact with Ronald, who grinned. "When I was your age I was still running round, stealing sweets and causing mayhem."   
"Mate, you gotta tell me, where'd you find a butler that doubles as a babysitter? My sister has a pair of five year old twins, and she'd kill for that kind of service." Ronald said conversationally.   
"ENOUGH!" Ciel snapped. "This cannot be legal!"  
"I assure you, it is. I have the credentials right here." Alan patted his briefcase. "So, shall we continue playing, or shall we cut to the chase. My companions can do this all day." Ronald and Eric shot the young master identical wide grins.   
"You're all insane." Ciel mumbled. "Fine, I'll bite. What's your so-called proof?"  
Alan calmly pulled the silver ball from the cane out of his pocket. "Sorry, the rest of it wouldn't fit in my pocket."  
Ciel barely reacted, but Eric saw something in his eyes change. Panic?  
"Excellent poker face." Alan said, nodding. "So, what were you doing there?"  
"I wasn't-"  
"Oh come on." Ronald said, rolling his eyes. "Kids these days. Mate, I was a way better liar than you."  
"I SAID ENOUGH!" Ciel screamed. "He owed me money."  
"A rich thing like you going after a college student?" Ronald asked.   
"Yes." Ciel said. Eric wasn't certain that it was a lie, but it wasn't truthful either.  
"So you were there. I see, I see, but then he dies that night. Strange."  
"He was alive when I left."  
"Ok, if that's true, you'd have to have left your cane there." Alan said. "And then someone your exact height would have to have come along and killed with it."  
"You can't possibly know that."  
"We spoke to a professional." Alan said calmly. Eric saw Ciel's eyes darken.   
"Why'd you do it?" Eric asked. "Why'd you kill him?"  
"I did no such thing!"   
"Maybe you didn't finish him off, but you ordered Sebastian to." Eric continued. He could feel adrenaline rushing through him. Apparently this wasn't normal protocol at all, but Ciel wasn't a normal suspect. Direct confrontation was apparently rare.   
"You have no proof!"  
"But we do." Alan said, crossing his arms. "I must admit, you gave the police a run, but we're not like them. It doesn't matter how old you are, Ciel. You're in deep trouble, so I suggest you start talking."  
"I want Sebastian." Ciel said sharply.   
"What? Afraid of what you'll mess up without his instructions?" Ronald asked. He seemed to be having fun. Ronald seemed to think that the butler was the bigger threat.   
"This is intrusive. I demand a lawyer." Ciel said.  
"One will be provided to you in court." Alan said calmly. "Granted you behave like a good little boy."  
Ciel's face reddened. "Get out."  
"Are you sure? That's terribly suspicious." Alan said politely.   
"You're accosting me in my own home!"  
"With valid reason."  
"GET OUT!" Ciel screamed. Now, even with his official clothing, he looked like a small child throwing a tantrum. "I don't know where your tramp took Sebastian, but I want him off my property as well.  
"You want Sebastian off your property?" Ronald asked innocently.  
"What? No! I said I want the degenerate gone."  
"Careful little lord. Discrimination don't look good on anyone." Eric said.   
"We wouldn't want to overstay our welcome." Alan said. "Come now you two, we have what we need. Thank you Mr. Phantomhive." He extended his hand out. Ciel didn't take it.   
"Right then." Ronald said. "And hey, if your pretty maid is ever free, have her give me a call."  
"OUT!" Ciel screeched.   
"Have a good day." Eric said. The way to the exit was easily remembered, so the three began to show themselves out, leaving Ciel red faced and steaming."  
"Oh, and Ciel." Alan said. "Consider yourself under house arrest. You might have a chance of dodging our charges for now, but leave these premises and there will be a certain reason to detain you in a place less nice than this."  
"You can't-"  
"I did." Alan said. "Goodbye Lord Phantomhive. I believe I'll see you soon."

"Bloody hell that was fun." Ronald said, once the trio was outside. "We should bully children more often."  
"That wasn't a child. That was a damn gremlin." Eric said, shaking his head. "Alan, I'm sorry I ever wanted to protect that thing."  
"I'm always right aren't I?" Alan said teasingly.   
"Yes, all hail Alan-Holy hell! Grelle!" Ronald yelled. Eric whirled and froze.   
Grelle was making her way over, blood dripping from her nose, looking slightly battered and incredibly vicious. "The bastard tried to jump me."  
"Holy shit! Are you ok?" Eric asked. He and Ronald both ran over to her.   
"I'm fine, I'm fine. That slimy man better hope he didn't break my nose." she said, waving them off.   
"He attacked you?" Alan asked.  
Grelle nodded. "Got me in a chokehold and tried to knock me out. I fought him though, he wasn't expecting that." she chuckled darkly. "He hit me in the face after I sliced him. But I sliced him good."  
"What the-How?" Eric asked.   
Grelle pulled a terrifyingly sharp pair of scissors from her pocket. The ends were smeared with blood.   
"Is that legal?" Eric asked.  
"Adrian gave them to me." Grelle said sweetly. "And I only used them in self defense darling. Oh, my face hurts."  
Ronald handed her a tissue and she pressed it to her nose. "Take it easy there."  
"Relax Ronnie." she said, rolling her eyes. "I was worried he was coming back for you."  
"No, we never saw him." Alan said.   
"Well shit, where'd he go?" Ronald asked.   
Eric froze. "Maybe he did come back. We might not have seen him. What would a caught criminal do?"  
"Destroy evidence." Alan said. "But what could he destroy?"  
Eric thought, then paled. "Oh Christ, the only man who could use that cane as proof."  
Alan swore, pulling his phone out of his pocket and dialing Mr. Spears. "William, I think it's them. The butler attacked Grelle and fled, he's heading for the cane maker-yes, yes, we're fine, you have to get help to him-Sir, we're perfectly fine! No, no serious injuries but-ok, ok, good. Pray they get there in time. Yeah, we're heading straight back. Sticking in a group. Yes, I'm very sure. Ok, yes, see you soon."  
"You get to call him William?" Eric asked.   
"Special privilege." Alan said. "Bloody hell, the man wouldn't quit asking after us, especially Grelle.   
Grelle blushed with happiness.   
"Come on, let's move." Alan directed. "Grelle, you alright to walk? The car's just out here."  
"Fine darling, William's love has practically healed me." she said brightly. 

Eric felt as if he was walking across the minefield, only feeling safe when he was driving out of the reaches of the manor. "This is getting bloody intense bloody fast."  
"Um, speaking of bloody, I'd love another tissue. It's not stopping." Grelle said.  
Eric fumbled in the glove compartment, tossing a pack of tissues back at her.   
"Mate! You hit me in the face!" Ronald complained.   
"Sorry." Eric said distractedly. He drove quickly, steering in jerky motions.   
"Eric, hey, it's alright." Alan said. "We got them, they can't leave."  
"It feels wrong." Eric said. "Something's wrong. We did something wrong."  
"Shh, shh it's alright." Alan said. "We did good-"  
"Bloody hell if that old man dies-"  
Alan's phone buzzed, cutting him off. Alan answered it, looking grim.   
"Hello? I see. Mm. Yes we're heading back now. Alright." he hung up. "The cane factory went up in flames."  
"Shit. Shit. Is he dead?" Eric asked, feeling sick.   
"Not sure. They couldn't find any bodies." Alan said. "That's not a good sign either. You were right though, we can use that as proof-"  
"We killed him." Eric said quietly, pulling into the parking lot. "We killed that sweet old man."  
"Eric, no we didn't." Ronald said firmly. Even though we cornered the lions, they're known to attack anyways."  
Eric sighed heavily, and jumped when there was a rap on the window. Eric looked up into Grey's blue eyes. The Kingsman was smeared in soot, ash darkening his pristine white suit. There was a dark smudge across his right cheek, and his eyes were slightly red. Despite this, he was grinning broadly. Eric rolled down the window.   
"Well well, what's the sad look for? You've practically saved the day!" Grey said cheerfully.   
"But not that old man." Eric said darkly.   
"What? You mean the cane man?" Grey said. He laughed. "He's upstairs with Spears!"  
"What? He survived that?" Alan asked.   
"Thanks to me!" Grey said brightly. "Phipps and I had a feeling, so we went to keep an eye on the place. We got there just as the flames started. I ran in and dragged the old bloke out before either of us got burned too bad."  
Eric felt lightheaded. The man was ok. "Oh thank god."  
"No, thank Grey." Grey said. "C'mon, Spears sent me to get you."

Mr. Spears was surrounded by both the remainder of their team and people Eric did not recognize. Mr. Spears directed them all with the grace and skill of a master conductor. He was all business, not a single crack in his cold facade. However, Eric saw his shoulders relax a bit when the four entered.   
"Christ, he does have a heart." Eric mumbled.   
Grelle looked at him. "Took you long enough to notice."  
Grey waltzed over to Phipps, throwing a hand over his shoulder, leaving a gray smudge on his own pristine white suit. Eric saw Phipps sigh and shake his head, before continuing his conversation with another man Eric did not know.   
"Quite a spectacle, isn't it? Don't you just love when all the pieces fall together?"  
Eric jumped and whirled to see the Undertaker standing behind him, dressed in the same strange robes and hat as before. "Christ on a bicycle!"  
"No, just me I'm afraid." the Undertaker snickered. "Told you I'd be seeing you again. I meant to pull you aside earlier. I was busy settling that one in." the Undertaker pointed a curved nail at the pale, nervous looking form of the old man from the cane factory.   
"Glad he's alright." Eric said weakly.   
The Undertaker laughed. "Thought you did him in did you? All the newbies go through that emotional spiral. Lucky yours had a happy ending!"  
"Yeah." Eric said, smiling weakly. What was up with this man?  
"Come with me." the Undertaker said suddenly, voice growing softer. "I need to show you something."  
Eric only had time for a final brief glance at the room before the Undertaker yanked him from it in a swirl of black fabric, leading him into the depths of the building.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we go! That's all I have for now. I hope you guys are enjoying it so far!! If you have any feedback, feel free to leave a comment. Again, thank you so much for reading, and I hope everyone seeing this has a lovely day!!


	16. 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends! I'm back from suffering with school!! I'm so sorry for the late upload, and I think I say this every time, but I'll still say it again. Sorry XD
> 
> Anyways, I hope this chapter can make up for it. Enjoy!!

Eric felt like he was receiving a behind the scenes tour of some sort. He had walked through this building dozens of times by now, but he wasn't sure he'd ever seen the hallway the Undertaker was leading him down. How had they gotten here anyways? Eric's mind was buzzing.   
"I so love it when young people like you can't keep up with me." The Undertaker chuckled. "Makes me feel so much younger."  
"How old are you anyways?" Eric managed as he tried to take in his surroundings. At the quick pace, the task was more than difficult.  
"You're not the first to ask, and you won't be the last." the Undertaker responded cheerfully. "And if I tell you, that will ruin the mystery!"  
"You really like mysteries huh?" Eric asked, fishing for additional information about this man.   
"Was that not obvious? I made mysteries my career after all." the Undertaker laughed. "But yes, I like mysteries. As well as skulls, taxidermy, the idea of death itself, kittens and puppies, and jokes! And I'll never say no to a good pastry."   
Once again, Eric found himself stunned into silence in the Undertaker's presence. This man couldn't be real, could he? It had to be an act or something. However Eric had a feeling that the Undertaker was truly being genuine. Eric had always laughed at the term "men of mystery", but the Undertaker seemed to be the real deal. Also, Eric was faintly reminded of Willy Wonka, but with skulls instead of candy. Did that make him an oompa loompa?"   
The Undertaker finally game to a stop in front of a giant display case. Hell, the place where they were was more of a display hallway. From this point forward, the surroundings resembled a macabre museum.   
"Here we are." the Undertaker said. He looked at Eric and snickered. "Out of breath are you? You're not the first for that either."  
"Bloody hell, you're in good shape." Eric said weakly.   
"My water aerobics class is paying off." the Undertaker said simply. The obscure image of a woman's water aerobics class with the Undertaker added in invaded Eric's mind, and he almost choked. The Undertaker noticed this too and laughed.   
"So where are we anyways?" Eric asked, looking around.  
"This is my personal trophy room so to say." the Undertaker said, spreading his arms. "I like to take little souvenirs from crime scenes, or from killers themselves. Like that!" the Undertaker pointed to a withered white hand seated on a velvet pillow. "I snagged that little trinket before it's owner was executed."  
"Ah. Lovely hobby." Eric said, unsure of what else to say. His hands longed for his pockets.   
The Undertaker laughed once again. "Oh, I do like you. Polite but not too polite. That sharp sense of humor always cuts through."  
"I'll take that compliment." Eric grinned. "Although I'm a little scared you'll kill me and hide my body here if I piss you off."  
The Undertaker was practically in hysterics now. "Oh no no. My days of crime are behind me. I stop them now. Restore the balance."  
"What do you mean by that?"  
"There's a balance to everything. Good, evil, life, death, and it's crucial that balance be maintained. I disturbed it a long time ago, oh heavens I did. Tipped the scales so badly they almost toppled over. I did so many things, so many wonderful, terrible things."  
"Ah." Eric said nervously. Was there an exit anywhere near him?  
"Oh, relax before you give yourself a stroke." the Undertaker said, patting Eric's shoulder. "Regardless of my past, I'm on this side of things now, working to restore what I destroyed."  
Eric tried to fit the information together. The Undertaker himself was a criminal...who'd had a change of heart? "What made you change your mind?"  
"I died." the Undertaker shrugged. "I saw what lies behind the veil, how the universe works, and how much I destroyed. It was enough to change my heart, much less my mind."  
"I...see?"  
The Undertaker laughed uproariously. "You don't understand, and you don't have to. You're just hearing the ramblings of an old man. But I will tell you that if you stay on the path you are now, you might understand some day. I like to keep my chosen few close."  
Eric was both pleased and terrified with the compliment. This seemed to be a theme with the Undertaker.   
"So what do you think of my little treasures!" the Undertaker said, twirling around the shelves.   
"It's bloody scary, but also interesting. Do you keep em' as reminders?"  
"Correct! I do! I keep them as reminders of how obscure cases can be, how you need to think outside the box. I keep them as motivation and inspiration, examples of how we've righted the balance in the past. And that's why I've brought you here."  
"What now?" Eric asked.   
The Undertaker grinned, stepping behind Eric. Eric winced as he felt the Undertaker's cold, corpse like hands on either side of his face. The Undertaker gently moved Eric's head until he was facing a specific object. The cane.  
"I've seen bright young minds like you become corrupted by storybook endings time and time again. You've done an amazing job so far, yes, and it seems like this case is wrapping up nicely." the Undertaker's voice took on a darker tone. "But don't get comfortable. This is your moment Mr. Slingby. I've placed you among my elites, oh yes, they've had their moments too. But this is yours. Will you accept the happy ending, or will you dig deeper into the dark threads of the balance we swear to keep?" the Undertaker stroked Eric's cheek with a pointed nail. "I can't make any choices for you. I'm an existentialist myself. But I thought I would show you this. To remind you that this isn't a movie or a happy story. Think for me Mr. Slingby, and I hope you'll find your path."

"You alright? You look a little pale." Ronald said when Eric approached him. The younger blonde was leaning against the wall, watching the happenings. Press had been called in and a manhunt had been launched to search for the Earl Phantomhive and his elusive butler.   
Eric brushed his hair back. "I gotta talk to Spears."  
"Did you hit your head? Did you say you actually want to talk to Spears?"  
"Ron."  
"Right then. Hey! Outta the way! Official people coming through!" Ronald yelled, pushing his way through the crowd. Eric followed, his broad shoulders doing most of the work for him.  
Mr. Spears was in the center of the crowd, directing people left and right. "Knox, Slingby." He said, acknowledging the pair without looking up.  
"Sir, I need a word." Eric eyed the crowd. "A private one."  
"Knox, take over." Mr. Spears said, motioning for Eric to follow him.  
"Wait hold on-You! Get that microphone out of my face or I'll shove it somewhere you really don't like!"  
"I'm going to regret that later." Mr. Spears sighed, holding the door of his office open for Eric. "So make it quick Slingby."  
"Alright, so this is going to sound ridiculous, but we need to keep investigating."  
"You think we have the wrong man?" Mr. Spears asked.   
"No sir, we have our man, but...Christ, there's something else. I don't know what. But it's there."  
Mr. Spears nodded slowly. "I wish you'd brought this up to me sooner, but I'll do what I can for you now."  
"Just like that?" Eric asked, surprised. "No protocol or red tape?"  
Mr. Spears adjusted his glasses. "Mr. Slingby, I've been here a long time, long enough to know when feelings like that mean something. I can buy you a day or two at most. Hopefully that will allow you to do what you need to."  
Eric's head was spinning. The rule loving Mr. Spears leaving him to his own devices just like that?  
"Trust your instincts." Mr. Spears said. "Trust this team, and trust me. Something sits wrong with me too. I trust you'll find an efficient conclusion." he fixed Eric with a piercing stare. "Or it's overtime for you."

"Alan." Eric said, bursting through the brunette's office door. "Grelle said you'd be here."  
Alan jumped. "Jesus Eric! There's this little thing called knocking."  
"Fuck, sorry."  
"Kidding, it's alright. I've always been skittish. I needed a break from the crowds. You alright?"  
"I'm continuing the investigation." Eric said. "I know it sounds stupid but-"  
"What can I do to help?" Alan asked.   
"Oh, well, most of my greatest moments have happened when you're around, and you're about a bajillion times smarter than me. I think the two of us could do a lot more, and um, christ I'm making this sound weird."  
Alan smiled. "Alright then, partner. What first?"  
Eric felt himself relax. He grinned back. "Well, I think we have the information we need, we just haven't seen the right piece. I wanna check in with a few people, and I need your general personality to help, I think a few customers on the list don't like me much."  
"Oh please, if they don't like you, it's a problem with them." Alan said, standing up. "But of course I'll help, tis' an honor, brilliant detective Eric."  
Eric pretended to tip a hat. "Well let's get to it then."

"So you're saying I left something out of my report? Oh hell I've fucked this up." Othello said, wringing his hands.  
"No no, I'm saying we all have. You probably got what I'm looking for, but it was overshadowed by the more obvious movie-type details."  
"You've been talking to the Undertaker haven't you." Alan commented.   
Othello typed on a laptop, clicking on files. "Here, this is all the information I got. Including the things I cut from the official report."  
"Perfect." Eric said, scanning the files.   
The door to the lab banged open. "Well hello lads, I've ruined my career as a tv...guy." Ronald said as he strode into the room. "What's going on in here?"  
"Ron, sorry but shut up for a moment, I'm thinking." Eric said, still reading. Ronald complying with this was probably the most surprising thing to happen that day, and Eric appreciated it. The other three waited in silence as Eric continued looking. Words blurred past him, but they weren't what he was looking for. In all honesty, Eric wasn't quite sure what he was looking for, only that it was in there, and it was important, and he'd know it when he saw it.   
And then, there it was.   
"Aha!" Eric said, jabbing a finger at the screen. "It's so obvious! Why did we ever stop thinking about this!?"  
"Care to enlighten us Sherlock?" Ronald asked.   
"The symbols. The weird demonic symbols. Before this case was about the earl and the butler, it was about the occult killings. We got spread up in the publicity."  
"You're right! How did I forget those!" Alan said, smacking his forehead.  
"I'm the one who left it out of the official report. This is definitely on my shoulders." Othello said.   
"No it's not, I mean it. Say that again and I'll knock you on your ass." Eric said.  
"You're so friendly Eric." Ronald said, rolling his eyes.   
"I mean that with love in my heart." Eric said. "The point is we overlooked it when the cane was an easier clue. And it was a good clue, it lead us right to the criminals, but now they're on the run and we need to double back." Eric tapped the screen. "This is important, I know it is."  
"Damn, ultra instinct Eric. I like it." Ronald said, clapping Eric on the shoulder.   
"Are these all the pictures?" Eric asked, turning to Othello.  
"Almost all of them. Sascha took them all personally. They might have kept a few blurry ones." Othello said.   
"Then let's find Sascha. Othello, can you tip Mr. Spears off to what we're doing?"  
Othello nodded. "Of course, but really, I'm so so-"  
"Any more self blaming and I knock you on your ass. Lovingly." Eric said. "Got that mate?"  
"Got it." Othello said, hurrying out of the room.   
Eric turned to his remaining companions. "Let's see the rest of those pictures."

"Hmm, I know there were at least five." Sascha mused as they flipped through their camera roll. "I kept them out because they were a little fuzzy. I like fuzzy things, like cute baby animals, but I do not like fuzzy on my pictures."  
Ronald was holding the expensive camera, standing stock still. "I'm scared I'm going to accidentally break this."  
The camera was plugged into a computer, where Sascha was scrolling through the various shots. Eric couldn't help but chuckle at an image of Mr. Spears yelling orders, his mouth stretched open.   
"Aha! Here we are!" Sascha said, pulling a couple of pictures up. "See, there is fuzz."  
Eric looked at the pictures. They appeared to be slightly blurrier versions of the crisp pictures he had already seen. "Alright, so we're all good here. Didn't hurt to check though."  
"Hold on." Ronald said. "This might be my seven cups of coffee today, but that little mark there looks suspicious."  
"It's the coffee." Eric said, rolling his eyes, but he still went over to check. He pointed to the bottom right corner of one of the pictures. "This it?"  
"Yeah. If you tilt your head like this and squint your eyes to make it more blurry, it actually comes into focus." Ronald said, tilting his head and squinting his eyes. Eric did the same, and to his surprise, the fuzzy mark came into focus.   
"Sascha, can you, I don't know, do some fancy camera thing?" Eric asked.   
"I can!" Sascha said happily. With a few clicks, Sascha distorted the image, focusing on the strange mark. "How is that?"  
"Is that mark in any of the other pictures?" Eric asked.   
Alan shook his head. "No, I'd remember it. Photographic memory. That's why I'm mentally kicking myself over forgetting the symbols altogether."  
"Ok, so what is this then, and why was it so easy to miss?" Eric asked.   
Ronald perked up suddenly. "I think I know who would know."

Grelle flipped through the pages of a creepy looking book. "Oh, I'm so excited! You came to the right person darling. I was hoping I'd get a chance to look at these closer, but I got caught up in the rush and never got the chance!"  
"So you're into the occult?" Eric asked.   
"But of course!" Grelle squealed. "How can you not love it? It's so fascinating!"   
"You don't want to be anywhere near her come Halloween." Ronald said drily.   
"Ronald, kindly shut your mouth." Grelle said. "Aha! Found it!" she tapped a page with a picture of the symbol.  
"What the hell? That looks slightly fuzzy too." Eric said, tilting his head.   
"It's supposed to darling." Grelle said. "It's part of the ritual."  
"Ritual?" Alan asked.   
"Oh yes! Clearly all of the symbols left so far have been ritualistic. This marks it as a summoning ritual." Grelle said.   
"Summoning? Like conjuring demon style stuff?" Eric asked. He'd never been a horror movie fan.   
Grelle nodded. "Most of these symbols have unknown origins, but they have connections to demons mainly in Catholic lore. I actually read an essay about these a little while ago. I know a charming demonology professor..."  
Eric felt himself sinking into a deep thought. This was all picking up way faster than he thought it would. "Grelle, do you know what kind of ritual it is?"  
"Mhm, like you said, it's demonic. It's quite a tricky little thing too. It takes a lot to finish. Starts with fire, ends with blood, you know."  
"I'm sorry, did you say fire?" Eric asked.   
"Why is that so shocking? Fire is very symbolic...oh my god." Grelle said, reaching the same conclusion Eric had.   
"Bloody hell." Ronald said in awe.   
"The Phantomhive fire." Alan said grimly.   
"I'm getting chills. This is some serious conspiracy theory shit." Ronald said, rubbing his arms. "It all ties back to that fire?"  
"The unofficial start of the ritual." Grelle said. "Then you need a certain amount of blood sacrifices. A virgin, a crone, a pair of lovers, a strong young man...Oh hell, that fits the victims doesn't it."  
"That's the pattern. It was never random." Alan said. "Grelle, how many do they need? How many killings are left?"  
"One." Grelle said. "A person who represents death."  
"So there's one person in danger still." Ronald said.   
"Side note, the ritual has to be completed on the soil it was started on, meaning Britain. They can't leave the country."  
"So they're going to stay until they kill that last victim." Alan said.  
"Grelle, what happens if the ritual is finished?" Eric asked.   
"No one knows." Grelle shrugged.   
"You don't believe it's real, do you?" Ronald asked. "I think it's just a couple of nut cases with a weird as hell agenda."  
"Who even knows." Eric said. "But believing or not, they're here for the time being."  
"Oh Eric, darling." Grelle said. "I have a few other helpful bits. And they're very helpful."  
"Hit me." Eric said. Ronald leaned over and punched Eric in the shoulder. It seemed that even in the darkest circumstances, Ronald would always be himself.   
"Well, there's a specific place where the last killing has to happen." Grelle said. "Atop the graves of the first victims. That would be the senior Phantomhives."   
"Ok, so we just stake out there? What if it already happened?" Ronald asked.   
"It hasn't." Grelle said, flipping the book around to show them. "It has to happen on the new moon. Do you know when that is?"  
"No." Ronald said. "I thought there were twenty five letters in the alphabet last week. Of course I don't know the moon schedule."  
"It's in two days." Grelle said. "So we know where they'll be and when. And no one is going to die until then."  
"How sure are you?" Eric asked.   
"Very sure darling, I've studied these things inside and out." Grelle said. "If I'm wrong, I'll buy Ron drugs or something."  
"Oh goody!" Ronald said.   
"Jesus." Eric said shaking his head. "Don't tell me you're a junkie."  
"Just for parties, inside joke." Ronald said. "I think? I mean if you wanna give me drugs, go ahead."  
"No one is getting any drugs." a dry voice said. The group turned to see Mr. Spears. "Alright you lot, I don't have long." he said, adjusting his glasses. "But I'm guessing we have some semblance of a plan, yes?"  
"Yeah, we do." Eric said.   
"Are we sure that's a no on the drugs?" Ronald asked.   
"I told you Will dearest, you should have watched those scary movies with me!" Grelle said.  
"I'll share my drugs!"  
Eric had to marvel how Mr. Spears' poker face never broke. 

Eric had returned to Alan's office. He suspected Alan was hoping for space, but the last thing Eric wanted was to be alone. He hoped Alan didn't mind.   
"It's all fairly lucky isn't it." Eric said, sighing heavily.   
"Mm? What is?" Alan said, turning his chair to face Eric.  
"That we caught this. We almost screwed this up big time."  
"Eric, all major crimes have these moments." Alan said. "It's never as clean as the press makes it sound. And it wasn't luck. We didn't just stumble upon that information, we looked for it under your directions. That's not luck. That's skill."  
"Not to sound pathetic, but I'm still not sure I belong here." Eric shrugged.   
"Personally, I'm pretty damn sure." Alan said.   
"I know, I know." Eric sighed. "Don't get me wrong, I love it here. I've never felt better than I have when I'm working, but sooner or later I'm going to make a mess of things."  
"Then I'll help clean it up." Alan said. "You can't drop out on me now. Partners, remember?"  
Eric felt a surge of emotion rise up in his stomach. "Alan."  
"Yeah?"  
"Nothing." Eric said, feeling his face burn. "Thank you, seriously."  
"Hey, I have your back." Alan said, patting Eric's shoulder.   
"Good, because I think we're still getting started. Somehow." Eric said.   
Alan grinned. "Good, I like a challenge."  
"You're insane." Eric said, rolling his eyes.  
"Am I? I think I'm just fun. I'm not like other girls." Alan said.  
"And you know meme culture? What can't you do?" Eric laughed.   
"Ronald basically gets his life force from memes. I had to learn to be able to understand the fifty meme references he makes a day." Alan said, shrugging.  
"It's a complex language. Not many can learn it." Eric laughed.  
"We'll just attribute it to my incredible intellect then." Alan said. "But really Eric, you don't have to worry. I'll be at your side. Always, I promise."  
The Return of the Emotions took place in Eric's stomach. He didn't know what to do with himself, he didn't know what to say. Could he even begin to say how he felt? Was now a good time? Now definitely wasn't a good time.   
Like he had done so many times before, Eric shoved the feelings back down, only saying "Thanks, it means a lot."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty! There's the chapter! If you've read this far, I hope you've enjoyed, and thank you so so so much. Feel free to leave feedback or just a comment with your thoughts. I'm always happy to improve my writing! Thanks again for reading, and I hope this was a good chapter. I hope everyone reading this has a lovely day! I'll see you guys again soon! <3


	17. 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohhhh my god it's been a while, I'm so sorry. Finals week and everything swamped me, and I haven't updated in a good long while. I'm so sorry XD
> 
> One of these days I'll actually get on a decent schedule, but for the time being, wow! Here we are on chapter seventeen! I really wouldn't have written this much if it hadn't been for your guys' support, so thank you. I know I suck at updating reliably, but hopefully this chapter can make it up to you. I hope you enjoy!

"I feel like I'm in school again." Ronald grumbled as he turned the page of the book he was reading. "Bloody required reading and everything."  
"If you don't like it, you can go on a coffee run." Grelle said. "Pick your preferred labor work."  
Ronald groaned. "Look, I don't think I'm gonna be helpful either way. I don't got the mind for reading! Do I gotta tell you about my epic failure back in my english class?"  
"Well, now you do." Eric said, unable to hide a grin. "Enlighten us."  
Ronald eyed his three friends and sighed. "Once upon a time, I had to do a homework assignment where I had to analyze the deeper meaning of a poem. I read the thing, and thought, hey, I got a good handle on this. So the next day, when my bitch of a teacher called on me, I thought, ok, let's give it a go, and I went on about how the poem was about some bloke with a baseball bat whacking it against a cave wall. Because of the line "the bat beats against the cave wall", and I got real philisophical. The teacher didn't stop me, so I thought I was doing something right. However, when I finished, she looked me dead in the eye and said "That's the stupidest interpretation I've ever heard in all of my years of teaching." Turns out the poem was talking about a bat, like the animal, and the bloody witch let me stand there and make a fool of myself." Ronald spread his hands in a "ta-da" gesture. "The end."  
"That's...really sad." Eric said, patting Ronald on the shoulder. "At least you gave it a good shot."  
"I'd appreciate the effort if I was your teacher." Alan shrugged.  
"I'd laugh my ass off at you." Grelle said mildly.  
"I'm gonna poison your coffee." Ronald said. "And then laugh my ass off as you die a horrible death."  
"Lovely." Alan said, shaking his head. "Ron, if you want to take a break, go ahead."  
"Nah, I'll be alright." Ronald said. "Seriously though, is no one else disturbed by this shit?"  
The four had been researching occult rituals, trying to decipher what "a person who represents death" meant. If they could determine who the victim would be, they might be able to protect them.  
"I'm so glad I skipped out on breakfast, if that's what you mean." Eric said, turning the page to avoid looking at a diagram for the correct dismemberment of a cow.  
"Don't disrespect the art." Grelle said innocently. "Just think about it Ronnie, we could be doing that instead of working here."  
"Mr. Spears has yet to drive me so far over the edge that I run away and join a cult." Ronald said, shaking his head. "But here's my question for you, gentlemen and lady. Why is a rich fancy-pants earl going dark side like this? Little Lord Fauntleroy's set for life!" Ronald aggressively tapped a photo of the earl. "I bet that outfit he's wearing costs more than I make in a year!"  
"People are terrifying." Grelle shrugged. "It's a shame though, I find that butler simply delicious."  
"Oh god, no." Ronald said shuddering. "He's like a wax figure! All cold and pale and robotic. I bet if we stuck him out in the sun for a good long while, the bastard would melt."  
"Oh yes, that reminds me." Alan said. "Do you want me to make this whole thing creepier now, or wait?"  
"Fuck it, let's go full creepy." Ronald said. "This can't possibly get much weirder."  
"Never say never." Eric said, raising an eyebrow.  
"Bloody hell, you're right." Ronald said, knocking on the table. "Knock on wood mates, knock on wood."  
"Well, we've looked everywhere, and I mean scoured, for the origin of this Sebastian Michaelis, and you know what we found?"  
"He's the Undertaker's blood relative slash lover?" Ronald asked. The others stared at him. "What? I'm preparing for the worst!"  
"We found nothing. He doesn't exist. No paper trail, nothing. It's like after the fire, he just warped into existence." Alan said.  
"God that's sexy." Grelle sighed. Ronald tossed a ball of paper at her.  
"So who is he?" Eric asked. "Did he change his name? Make a whole new identity?"  
"I don't think you realize how good our searching power is. This is one of the first times that we've ever not been able to find a match for a person, even if they change their identity. He's just not in the system, meaning we have no way of knowing who he is or where he came from."  
"And why'd he get roped in with a psychotic rich child anyways?" Ronald asked. "Bloody hell, you're right, that did make this all creepier. Do you think...he's even human?"  
"A hot vampire!" Grelle squealed.  
"He has to be." Alan said. "A human, not a hot vampire." He added quickly. "Maybe this is how I'm choosing to deal with the freakiness of it all, but I'm believing that he's human until I see otherwise."  
"We can make a ghost hunting channel." Ronald said suddenly.  
"Ronald, he's not a ghost!" Grelle protested.  
"Still, we could make a killer youtube channel-"  
"We're not broadcasting a damn official investigation on youtube!"  
"Maybe he is." Eric said suddenly.  
"Is what?" Alan asked.  
"Maybe he is a ghost." Eric said slowly.  
"Haha! See? Who's crazy now!" Ronald said, crossing his arms triumphantly.  
"Eric, sweetheart, I've grown to absolutely adore you, but do you even hear yourself? A ghost? He physically attacked you with that wonderful, firm body of his. He's corporeal."  
"No, not a literal ghost!" Eric said. "He's someone who's lived his entire life without being traced. He's moved undetected for years."  
"Metaphorical ghost works too I guess. Not nearly as great clickbait, but I can work with it." Ronald shrugged.  
"So we're gonna start thinking like ghosts." Eric said seriously.  
"What now?" Grelle asked. "Darling, I'm simply too gorgeous to blend in."  
"You all are familiar with the system, and I'm familiar with flying under the radar." Eric said. "We can get in his shoes, try to get in his head. Maybe if we can do that, we can learn more about him. It can't hurt, can it? We got time to kill anyways." Eric shrugged.  
"True." Alan said. "A sort of profiling thing. I've never tried, but I guess it might work..."  
"Anything to avoid more reading!" Ronald said brightly. "I'm in."  
Grelle sighed. "You're lucky I'm getting bored too. I'll have Othello keep working on the death representation thing. He adores geeky things like this."  
"You adored this geeky thing first." Ronald said, gesturing to the books. "You knew exactly where to go to get these bloody things."  
"True friends appreciate each other's geeky interests. And that's why Othello is my best friend." Grelle said sweetly.  
"Wait, I thought I was your best friend!" Ronald protested.  
"Not at all darling, you're up there, but you're not my best friend."  
"I'm gonna cry!"  
"Shall we?" Alan asked, watching the other two bicker with mild interest.  
"Yeah, I'm surprised you all are going along with it." Eric said, shaking his head. "So thanks."  
"No problem." Alan said, standing in between Ronald and Grelle to prevent more fighting. "You two, settle down won't you?"  
"But mum! She doesn't love me!" Ronald protested.  
"Does that make Eric our father?" Grelle asked, looking at Eric.  
"Daddy!" Ronald said, batting his eyelashes at Eric.  
"Alright, I'm leaving. And anyone who calls me Daddy is getting an early grave." Eric said. "Roll out, squad!" 

"Go go power rangers!" Ronald sang for the eighth time as the four walked down the streets of London. Alright, so saying "squad, roll out" was lame, but Ronald didn't have to consistently make fun of it! Eric was looking for a conveniently opened storm drain, when the singing finally stopped.  
"Oh thank god, has he lost his voice?" Eric said teasingly. When he didn't get a response, he turned to see his three companions looking at something. "Hey, you all good?" Eric asked.  
"Eric?" Ronald said, "I think you might wanna take a look at this."  
The tone in Ronald's voice greatly unsettled Eric. Thanks to his height, he was able to peer over Ronald's head to see what everyone was looking at.  
It was a missing poster taped to a pole. That much wouldn't have caught Eric's attention, but it was the subject of the poster that gave him a chilled feeling. He was looking at a picture of himself.  
"Did you forget to tell someone you were moving here?" Ronald asked. "Because I'd say they're rather worried about you."  
Suddenly it all made sense. Eric groaned. "Nope, they know exactly where I am, they're just not happy with it."  
"Who made it?" Grelle asked curiously. "That's a lovely photo of you, by the way."  
"My parents." Eric sighed. "I had to leave to escape them really, and as you can imagine, they really weren't fans of that. I guess this is their master plan to force me home."  
"That's a huge reward for returning you." Ronald said. "I kinda want to bring you home just to cash in on that."  
Eric knew Ronald was joking, but he felt too bitter to laugh. "I can tell you for a fact that they don't have that kind of money. They'd have to sell everything they own, and even then they wouldn't have enough. Bloody hell, I can't believe they did this."  
To his surprise, Grelle placed a hand on his shoulder. "I know the feeling darling. Blood relatives aren't always the best family. Do they genuinely want you back? Or do they have a selfish reason for that?"  
"Considering I'm the only one of us who's worked a job or gotten a GED, I'll let you take your guesses." Eric said. He just felt numb now.  
A sharp tearing noise dragged him from his thoughts. Grelle had yanked the poster off the pole, crumpled it, and tossed it into a nearby gutter. "Then I say fuck them. You don't need them, and you don't want them. You're not obligated to go running back just because they're low on funds." Grelle said, crossing her arms.  
"That was awfully rebellious of you." Ronald said, watching the paper become a soaked mess on the ground.  
"You're happy here, aren't you? I can tell from the look on your face that you were hardly happy there. You aren't doing anything wrong by being happy. They had their chance to be your family and support you, and they blew it." Grelle continued. "So don't even give them a second thought. Let them burn."  
"I dunno." Eric said. "Dammit, even from another country they get in my head..."  
"You don't have to let them." Grelle said. "You've already proven that you can live just fine on your own without them."  
"Yeah." Eric said slowly. "I sure as hell don't want to go back."  
"Then don't." Ronald said. "Sorry, I don't have much in the way of family drama knowledge, at least, not like that. I mean, I'm sure my mum would adopt you if you let her. She's already unofficially adopted everyone else."  
That made Eric smile, surprisingly. "I'm sure she's lovely Ron."  
"Don't tell her that, you're gonna end up with home cooked meals up to your ears." Ronald said, shaking his head. "Point is, you got people here who'll give you the love and support. You don't have to go running back. You'd better not leave, you still have to beat my Mario Bros record, and we're in them middle of a serious case. And I'd miss you."  
"I fucking hate you." Eric said affectionately, yanking Ronald into a hug, who yelped.  
"Male bonding, I'll never understand it." Grelle said, shaking her head.  
"Get over here, all of you." Eric said. "We're group hugging in public, no matter how weird it looks."  
"You're ruining my street cred." Ronald grumbled as the three were squished together.  
"Ronald, you look like a strangely attractive computer nerd." Grelle said, shaking her head. "What street cred?"  
"How about...now!" Ronal said, whipping his glasses off his face. "Not so nerdy now, eh? Bloody hell, I'm blind..." Ronald squinted as he looked around.  
"If you need to talk, you know I'm here to listen." Alan said softly. Eric nodded, greatly appreciating the gesture.  
"Bloody hell, that looks like the void." Ronald said, staring down a storm drain. "The shadowy void..."  
"Hold on." Eric said suddenly. "Could someone live down there?"  
"I mean, ew, who would want to?" Grelle said. "But yes. But also ew."  
"You don't think..." Alan said.  
"I think if he was desperate enough to hide, he would." Eric said. "Hell, I might if I had to lay low for a while. Lots of space an privacy, plus access to travel routes.  
"Your sexy vampire ghost lives down there. What do you think of him now?" Ronald asked, grinning.  
"I think...ok, alright, I give up. I can't make that romantic." Grelle said, wrinkling her nose.  
"Yet you were fine with him when he was just a murderer?" Eric asked.  
Grelle shrugged. "What can I say? Crime is sexy."  
"Well, guess we're going to the literal London Underground." Ronald said. "You get it? Because it's underground, and we're in London-"  
"Yes, thank you." Grelle said. "Someone else can go first."  
"It was your idea." Ronald said, looking at Eric. "You can do the honors."  
When presented with the dark, slightly foul smelling hole, Eric had to admit that this idea was looking less great. However, he remembered the Undertaker's words. He had to dig deep, and he supposed he was going to do that literally.  
"Alright, I'm going." Eric said. "See you on the other side."

The ladder was slightly slippery, something that almost gave Eric a heart attack several times on his way down into the drain. Everything around him was damp or dripping, and the entire area gave off a strange, musty smell. It wasn't unbearable, but it wasn't pleasant.  
"How is it down there?" Ronald called, once Eric had his feet firmly on the ground."  
"It's lovely!" Eric called. "It's like I'm on a goddamn vacation! Now get your asses down here so you don't miss out!"  
Once the other three had joined him at the bottom, Eric glanced at the various passages.  
"Now what?" Grelle asked.  
A beam of light clicked on, directly in Eric's eyes. He swore and jerked back.  
"Phone flashlight!" Ronald said cheerfully. "Oh, sorry Eric."  
"You're good." Eric said, blinking the spots of light out of his eyes. "That's a good idea."  
"Guess we're exploring." Alan said. "Pick a tunnel, any tunnel."  
"All of them smell." Grelle said, crossing her arms. "I'm regretting this so much right now."  
"Left tunnel!" Ronald said. "I will guide us!"  
"Watch us walk into some weird monster that lives down here." Grelle sighed. "I'm going to die at twenty three and it's going to be your fault."  
"While it eats you, I'll escape." Ronald said, as the four began to walk down the tunnel. "Bloody hell, who wants to explain to Mr. Spears how we spent the afternoon walking around down here?"  
"Not it." Grelle, Eric and Alan said quickly. Ronald gave them a deadpan stare.  
"Guess I will then. Lovely. That'll go over real well." Ronald sighed. "I can see it now. "Knox, where the bloody Sam Hill have you been?" he'll say. And I'll say, "Oh you know, just having a lovely stroll through the sewers." And I'll give him a lovely smile to try and preserve my life for a few moments longer, but wouldn't you know it, he won't like that answer at all, no sir, not at all. And then he'll give me that evil stare, and yell, "KNOX! OVERTIME!" loud enough for the entire country to hear, and I'll never see the light of day again because I'll be trapped inside forever doing overtime work."  
"You're a bloody drama queen aren't you." Eric laughed.  
"What gave it away?" Ronald sighed, rolling his eyes. "Anywho, thanks for coming to my Ted Talk, I guess."  
"It was lovely." Alan said, applauding. "I'll give it a wonderful review."  
"Hooray." Ronald said sarcastically. "And just like that, my career as a public speaker has begun! It'll be wonderfu-Uh oh." Ronald trailed off. The group was faced with a large, flat, stone wall.  
"Dead end." Eric said. "Damn."  
"Way to go Ronald." Grelle said. "Excellent leadership."  
"Fine, we can double back and take the right path." Ronald said. "It was a fifty fifty chance dammit! I can't be blamed for this!"  
"Sure you can." Grelle said drily. "Now we have to walk down here for so much longer."  
"Wait, hold on." Alan said suddenly. "It might not be a dead end." He crouched down and pressed his hand to the bottom of the dead end wall.  
"Ew, Alan, I don't mean to disturb you, but you might want to consider how many germs are crawling on that thing." Grelle said, a disgusted expression on her face. "Like, really think about it."  
"How much would you pay me to lick it?" Ronald asked mischievously.  
"Ronald that's disgusting! Why would I ever want you to-"  
"Fine, how much will you pay me to not lick it?"  
"RONALD!"  
As the two bickered, Eric kneeled down next to Alan. "Whatcha got?"  
"Look, there's a drain. These little holes here allow the water to drain. So it's not technically a dead end, it's just a dead end for us."  
"Yeah, you got a point, but sorry, I don't really see how that helps us much." Eric said apologetically.  
"Well I'm willing to bet that these are at the end of every tunnel. Not very convenient is it?" Alan mused. "So if our butler was using this place as a home and a way to get around-"  
"He'd have to have a way to get around these blockades." Eric finished.  
Alan nodded. "So unless we can't find a way to get around this, we can't assume that he isn't using this place, or at least used it in the past."  
"That's true." Eric said. "Oi, Ronald! We could use your destructive capabilities over here!"  
"You called?" Ronald said brightly, bounding over to them. "What can I do you for?"  
"If you had to get around this block, how would you do it?" Eric asked.  
"Well, let's take a look." Ronald said, crouching down beside them. "Why am I trying to get around this thing?"  
"Jesus, I don't know! Just see if you can!"  
"Well, I gotta have the whole story if I'm gonna get in the right mindset!" Ronald protested.  
Eric sighed. "Fine, Mr. Spears is chasing you with an ungodly load of paperwork, and the only way to escape him is to somehow get past this wall."  
"So the stakes are high. I see." Ronald said, trailing his hands across the wall. "Alright, let's see..."  
The others watched in silence as Ronald examined the wall. After a few moments, Eric spoke again.  
"So is it no use? No one can get through?" Eric asked.  
"Nope, it's solid." Ronald sighed. "Guess it's overtime for me."  
Eric groaned. "Ok, let's go back arou-"  
"Mate, I'm kidding!" Ronald said. There was the crunch of stone grinding upon stone, and Eric turned around in time to see Ronald standing in front of a now opened passageway.  
"How the fuck did you-"  
"My mum's a biologist. She told me how these things work, she studies the weather and stuff, and how leaves break down and shit, and she knows a lot about these storm drains. She used to take me down in them with her while she worked, and she told me if I was ever stuck in one, find the panel here that opens up the blocks, so I can make my way to the center of the line and hopefully call for help or climb out." Ronald shrugged. "I accidentally learned."  
"So if our demon knew this little trick, he'd easily be able to get around." Alan said.  
"Wait, if you knew this the whole time, why did you start to have us go back?!" Grelle said accusingly.  
"I completely forgot ok! I only remembered when I started looking at it." Ronald said. "Again, I am not to be blamed!"  
"The point is we know how it works now." Alan said, attempting to stop any more fighting. "The thing to do now is to keep going, look around. Maybe we'll find something."  
"Onward!" Ronald cheered, shining his phone flashlight into the passageway. Something scurried out of the beam of light.  
"God, I hate it down here." Grelle sighed. "If we run into a flesh eating anything, we give it Ronald and run."  
"Hey! You need me! I'm the king of the storm drain!" Ronald said.  
"Shall I address you as such in public?"  
"Oh hell no, that would really ruin my street cred."  
Eric turned to Alan. "Guess this trip just got longer. Still wanna stick around?"  
"I already told you, we're partners." Alan said. "Creepy storm drains or not."  
"Great." Eric grinned. "Then let's go-" he turned to see that Ronald and Grelle had already disappeared into the passage.  
"Let's go find them before they end up dead." Alan said quickly.  
"I think that's a great idea." Eric agreed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright! There we go! As always, comments and feedback are appreciated. I want to make sure I'm doing a good job on this, and that you all are enjoying what you see!!
> 
> Sorry again for the late update, I always feel so guilty, and I feel like this is the longest I've ever taken so yikes...
> 
> Anyways, thank you so much for reading, it means the world to me that people are actually willing to read my crappy writing. I sincerely hope you all enjoyed, and I hope everyone seeing this has a lovely day!!


	18. 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tw for mentions of ab*se, stay safe freinds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so it's been over a month! I am a complete and total failure with the whole upload schedule thing. Soooo...like a true pro I'm giving up XD  
> Basically uploads are gonna be a little scattered, but I will still be uploading, I promise XD  
> Anyways, here's the long awaited chapter 18!! I hope you enjoy!!

Well, walking through a catacomb of storm drains was not what Eric had pictured himself doing. To be fair, most of his fantasies didn't involve working for a crime agency, but life has was of surprising you.  
"Christ." Alan said, sounding slightly out of breath. "We just saw them a moment ago. Where could they have possible gone?"  
"Uh, here's a less than great thought." Eric said. "We might have gone a different path from them."  
"Shit." Alan said. Eric stared at him. "What?"  
"I dunno, hearing you swear is weird." Eric shrugged, grinning.  
"Well fucking get used to fucking hearing me fucking swear." Alan paused. "That didn't make sense, did it?"  
Eric laughed. "A plus for effort."  
"What a day huh?" Alan said.

"Understatement." Eric said, shaking his head. "Biiiiig understatement."  
"Do you want to talk about it?" Alan asked. "I mean, it's not every day you see your face on a missing poster. I want to make sure you're ok, you know?"  
"That's...a complicated conversation." Eric said, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I dunno if I can get into it without dumping a whole load of crap on you."  
"It's ok if you do. I'm willing to listen to whatever you have to say." Alan said.  
"You're too good for this world. You know that, right?" Eric said. "I don't think I've ever met someone as open or willing to listen as you."  
"What can I say, I'm the most special of the snowflakes." Alan said, grinning.  
Eric laughed. "You got that right. Well, I guess if you don't mind, I'm willing to talk. I dunno, I wanna get some stuff off my chest."  
"Then go right ahead." Alan said. "I'm ready when you are."  
"Ok." Eric said. "I started talking about my girlfriend yeah?" Alan nodded and he continued. "Well, I've been thinking about that. And I don't think I ever loved her. I mean, I think that sounds really selfish of me, but it's true."  
"It doesn't sound selfish. We can't control our feelings. You can't make yourself love someone." Alan said.  
Eric nodded. "Yeah. Honestly, I think I got together with her because it felt like I was supposed to. Like having a girl was part of normal life, and to keep my life running, I had to check off that little box. Yeah, she was pretty, but I don't know if I was ever attracted to her. I guess what I'm saying is that I have no idea why I ever dated her."  
Alan nodded. "That's a hard thing to think about."  
"You're telling me." Eric sighed. "I don't think I was happy with her either. Like it wasn't too hard to smile and act like everything was great, but inside, I dunno, I was just as empty as I was before I met her. It made other people around me happy, but it didn't make me happy."  
"So you kept it up for appearances? You poor thing." Alan said.  
"Yes and no." Eric said. "I think she caught on to how I was feeling. When she brought it up, I was ready to try and talk it out like adults. I think at that point I was ready to get out."  
"I take it it didn't go so well."  
"Not in the least." Eric said. "It was like she morphed into a whole other person. She was screaming, I'd never heard anyone scream like that. She was just enraged at the thought of me wanting to maybe end things. I was scared, and that was before she came at me. I know, it's ridiculous. I'm this big guy who was scared of a shorter woman, but she was just so angry..."  
"It's ok." Alan said softly, squeezing his shoulder.  
"She came at me. She hit me, just started whaling on me. Like it hurt. I'm not gonna lie about that. She just kept jabbing at me, and honestly she knew all the right places to make it hurt. God, that's the best way I can describe it. It just hurt. Emotionally and physically."  
"Did you try to make her stop?"  
"Yeah, but every time I made a move to grab her hands or push her away, she'd scream that if I touched her it was assault and she'd call the police, get me locked up faster than I could open my mouth to defend myself. She was right, I doubt anyone would have believed me over her. She knew that, and she used that to her advantage. She was a cunning little bitch."  
"God, that's horrible." Alan said. "Did she leave marks?"  
"Yeah, she did. She left all sorts of bruises. I brushed em off though. I said I walked into stuff, fell down the stairs a few times. It didn't matter. Not only would no one believe me, if they did they'd just laugh. Tell me to take it like a man."  
"I'm so sorry."  
"It sure as hell wasn't your fault." Eric said. "I let it go on. I mean, I felt pretty trapped, but every night I'd lay there and think about how I sorta did it to myself, you know? Like if I did something different, this wouldn't be going on. I kinda had to retract into this little fantasy. Act like everything was ok so she'd stay calm and just go on with life. She went at me because she felt like it though too."  
"Bloody hell."  
"Yeah. She had a lot of anger, and once she discovered that she could take it out on me with no consequences, it was pretty much all over. I know I should have stood up for myself. I mean how pathetic can you get."  
"You're not pathetic. Not in the least. She did have you trapped."  
"The longer I was with her the more I realized that I was gonna live the exact same sad life as everyone in my family before me. I was just gonna stay where I was, drinking and working and staying broke with a wife who hated me, and I couldn't take it. I was already stretched thin from my family, and she was just one more thing to tack onto the load. I went back to drinking. I'd been doing pretty well up until then, but I just relapsed. I relapsed hard. Didn't show up for my shitty job, got fired, spent all day drinking. I literally became my Dad. Thinking about it now even still makes me sick."  
Alan gently rubbed his back. Eric took a shaky breath before continuing.  
"I came home one night, drunk off my arse. She decided it was a good night to go at me. I hit her. Hard. I wasn't thinking. I would have never raised a hand to her otherwise. I'm not that kind of person. I really did become my Dad that night. She was scared of me then. I saw it in her eyes. I swear I never meant to hurt her. I'm not that kind of person, I'm not-" Eric's voice broke.  
"I know you're not." Alan said gently. "You're not a bad person. We all make mistakes, and you've made it more than clear that you regret it, and you've put your all into changing into a better person. Not everyone can do that. And that shows me that you're a thousand times the man your father is."  
"It still happened." Eric said. "I still did it, and nothing is going to change that."  
"That's a lot to carry. Are you sure you want to?"  
"Yeah." Eric said. "I don't ever want to go down that road again. Ever. I'd rather die."  
"I have faith in you. I don't say that to people lightly. I really think you'll succeed. You are succeeding." Alan said. "I wouldn't say that if I didn't believe it."  
"Like I said, you're too good for this world." Eric said, shaking his head, smiling slightly. "I keep thinking that you're a figment of my imagination."  
"Unfortunately I'm real." Alan laughed. "You've seen other people interact with me. That would mean that they're figments of your imagination as well."  
"Christ, you're right. I don't think anyone could dream up Ronald." Eric said.  
"That is a solid point." Alan laughed. "Do you want to keep going?"  
"Yeah." Eric said. "There's more after that surprisingly. For the next few weeks after it happened, I was terrified she was gonna tell someone. I mean, it's not like anyone would have batted an eye if she did, that kind of stuff was normal where I came from. But I kinda went into a shell. I was anxious, jumpy, hell, even timid. And she noticed. She knew that she had me right where she wanted me. So then she went for the throat." Eric grimaced. "I don't have proof, but I'm incredibly sure that she went to my father. Because out of nowhere he started pressuring me to propose. He's not a romantic, and he could care less if I got hitched. But getting married to her would mean that I'd have to stay where I was. I couldn't leave, and therefore he wouldn't lose me as a source of cash."  
"Christ." Alan said softly.  
"Right? They were like a bunch of criminal masterminds." Eric said. "Honestly, I should have seen it coming. But I didn't, and I caved after a few days of pressuring. I know that's pathetic too. I just kinda rolled over."  
"You were hardly in a good mindset." Alan said. "Don't be so harsh on yourself for that."  
"I dunno." Eric said, shaking his head. "I didn't have to roll over like I did. I just did. I got a ring, proposed, kissed my freedom goodbye."  
"But you still got out." Alan said.  
"I did." Eric said. "And it's almost ironic how it happened. I left during an event that would make most people stay. My Grandmother had a stroke. I was sitting with her while she recovered, and she beckoned me over. I'm pretty sure she used all the strength she had recovered at that point. She said that if I didn't jump ship and get the hell out, she wouldn't quit until she was strong enough to shove her cane up my ass."  
Alan laughed. "You're joking!"  
"Nope, she's a tough one. Still around today. I wanted to bring her with me, but I didn't have a way to. I feel guilty about that honestly."  
"Why? I'm sure she's happy honestly. You did what she wanted you to, and I'm sure knowing that you're out of there and living your life makes her happier than anything in the world could." Alan said.  
"Maybe you're right." Eric said. "Hell if I know. I mean, I think I do, but I still feel guilty you know."  
"And there's nothing wrong with that. Don't push your emotions down. You're doing yourself a disservice."  
"I hate emotions." Eric said. "Wait, that came out wrong."  
Alan laughed. "No no, I understand."  
"Good." Eric said. "Well, here's the thrilling conclusion to the story. I saved up money, got a ticket to London, and ran like my ass was on fire and didn't look back. I didn't tell anyone where I was going. I mean, they know I'm in London, but I doubt they'd find me if they looked. Hence, posters I guess."  
"You made it out." Alan said. "You're so much more than they are combined. You did what none of them ever could. You're living your life. I'm so proud of you."  
"Really?" Eric asked, cheeks heating up slightly.  
"Yes! You're an incredibly strong person. I'm in awe of how much you've accomplished and how far you've come. Look at where you started, and look where you are now!"  
"In a sewer." Eric said.  
"Ok, maybe it was a bad time to make that statement."  
Eric laughed. "Nah, even a sewer is a step up."  
"Excellent! Then look around at where you are all you want. Here we have a lovely wall, some marvelous dead leaves. If we're lucky, we may see a cute and cuddly rat."  
"You're a nutcase." Eric said affectionately.  
"Why thank you. I take that as a compliment of the highest order." Alan said, bowing.  
"Speaking of nutcases, how in the hell have we not found those two yet."  
"It's a large storm drain." Alan said. "And apparently this is Ronald's natural environment."  
Eric laughed again. "Well, at least we've learned one thing. This is definitely a form of transportation."  
"The damn Demon must have a map or something." Alan said. "Christ, I have no idea where we are."  
"Oh Jesus, I didn't even think of that." Eric said. "We could be stuck down here forever."  
"Oh." Alan said. "Shit, we need to find Ronald."  
"Wait, idea." Eric said, pulling out his phone. "Hey Siri, where the hell am I?"  
Alan collapsed into laughter. "Oh thank god we have our lord and savior siri."  
"What! I thought that was a good idea!" Eric protested. "If Siri can tell me what song's playing at the super market, it should be able to tell me where I am in the damn storm drain!"  
"We will see. We may have discovered the outreach of technological ability."  
"Yeah, the storm drain. AI can't touch this shit." Eric said. "Guess we'll be moving down here when the robots take over like the metallic dicks they are." he looked down at his phone. "Oh, no offense siri. You're my best friend."  
That sent Alan into another round of hysterics.  
"What! I want to befriend our computer overlords. Maybe they'll cut me a sweet deal, or let me live as a pet or something!"  
"Yes, you certainly have a head start on all of us." Alan laughed.  
"Don't worry, I'll let you in on the deal too."  
"Oh how kind of you."  
"Yeah, I'm just that generous."  
The bantering could have gone on longer, if it wasn't for the soft whispers that carried across the space.  
"Liar..."  
"...Lie..."  
"Holy shit." Eric froze. "Did you hear that?"  
"What?" Alan asked. "I didn't hear anythi-"  
"...Liar..."  
"Oh fuck." Alan said, tensing.  
"Has anyone ever died down here?" Eric asked.  
"What? What do you mean?"  
"Like a really shitty death?"  
"Well I think dying in a storm drain is a pretty shitty death. Wait are you implying there's ghosts?"  
"Vengeful spirits can come back if they died especially badly, and I sure as hell would be pissed if I died down here." Eric said.  
"You don't think there are really spirits...do you?" Alan asked slowly.  
"You're the smart one, what do you think?"  
"I don't know! I prefer to think about these kinds of things in a well lit room, not a sewer surrounded by whispers.  
"...lie...lie..."  
"For the record I didn't lie about anything. I mean I thought about lying about the hitting part, but I didn't." Eric raised his middle finger to the dark tunnel before him. "So fuck off spirits! You got the wrong guy!"  
"...liar..."  
"The spirit seems to disagree." Alan said.  
"So we're sure it's a spirit?" Eric asked. "Christ I am not a fan. I don't like this. Siri, turn on flashlight."  
"Calling Mr. Spears"  
"What! How did you get that? I said flashlight!"  
"Searching up definitions for: Fleshlight."  
"NO!"  
There was a small beam of light as Alan turned on his own phone flashlight. "Like this?"  
"Yeah." Eric said, shaking his phone. "Damn thing is gonna get me killed by ghosts."  
"...lie...lie..."  
"...liar...liar...liar..."  
"Does it sound like it's getting closer?" Alan asked softly.  
"I don't want to think about that. Oh fuck no, I refuse to think about that."  
"I think it is though."  
"Oh fuck. Oh fuck me."  
"Not right now, I'm potentially about to be murdered by ghosts. How does next Thursday sound?"  
Eric stared. "You're making jokes?"  
"What can I say, it's a coping strategy."  
"...liar..."  
"Do we have to appease it somehow? I really haven't lied about anything!" Eric said.  
"Neither do I. Maybe it's blind and can't tell it's haunting the wrong people. That would be a sad way to die, losing your eyes and bleeding out."  
"What the fuck?!"  
"I've seen it done before."  
"What if the Demon's stashed bodies down here, and these are the angry souls back from the dead to get revenge?" Eric asked.  
"I try not to think about these things during investigations."  
"Liar." the voice was much louder and closer. Both Eric and Alan jumped.  
"No...lie."  
"Liar."  
"It's a lie."  
"I think there are two of them." Alan said. "Those are two different voices."  
Eric grabbed Alan and pulled him behind a corner. "Fuck, they're still getting closer."  
"I believe I will text Mr. Spears before I die. "Hello sir, we're about to be murdered by potentially blind spirits, how's your day going?" Does that sound alright?"  
"Liar."  
"Lie."  
"Liar!"  
"Lie!"  
"We're gonna die." Eric said. "Holy shit we're actually gonna die."  
"Not a bang, but a whimper." Alan mused.  
If Eric was going to die, he wasn't going to go out before doing one last thing. "Alan?"  
"Hm?"  
"Liar!"  
"There's something I need to tell you."  
"Lie!"  
"Hm, what is it?" Alan turned to him, green eyes barely visible in the dim light.  
"Liar!"  
"Lie!"  
"Eric? What is it?"  
"I lo-"  
"It's a lie god dammit!"  
"Wait." Alan said. "Is that..." he peeked out from behind the corner, before visibly relaxing. "I'm going to kill them."  
"Wait." Eric looked out to see Ronald and Grelle bickering as they walked towards them.  
"Ronald, it's a liar!"  
"No, it's a lie!"  
"What are you two idiots doing!" Eric yelled, jumping out from behind the corner. Both Ronald and Grelle screamed.  
"What the hell man!" Ronald yelled. "You almost gave us heart attacks!"  
"Me? What about you! Chanting about liars. I haven't lied about anything!"  
"What? No darling, we're talking about the greek instrument. A lyre."  
"It's a lye! Not a lyre!" Ronald yelled.  
"God dammit Ronald, it's a lyre!" Grelle shot back.  
"Wait, so you're telling me this entire time you were arguing about instruments." Alan said, stepping out from behind the corner and standing next to Eric.  
"Yeah." Ronald said. "Why? What have you guys been up to?"  
Eric looked at Alan. Alan looked back. At the same time they both doubled over laughing, clinging to each other to stand upright.  
"Ronnie, they seem to have lost their sanity." Grelle said, crossing her arms. "I guess some people just aren't meant to be in the dark this long."

"Mr. Spears, I have a question." Ronald said, raising his hand. The entire team had assembled back in their briefing area for a quick check in.  
"It depends Knox. Is this a good, important question?"  
"Yes sir."  
"Fine. Let's here it."  
"Is it a lye? Or a lyre?"  
"I beg your pardon?"  
"The greek instrument sir."  
"The greek instrument?"  
"Yeah."  
"Knox, I thought you said this was important."  
"It is."  
"Does this have anything to do with the case? Anything at all?"  
"Well, no-"  
"THEN WHY BRING IT UP!"  
"But is it a lye or a lyre!"  
Mr. Spears sighed, before opening his laptop and typing into a search bar. The team waiting in bated silence before he spoke. "It's a lyre."  
"FUCK YES!"  
"What?!"  
"SUCK ON THAT RONALD!"  
"Then what the hell is a lye!" Ronald protested.  
"That's a soap brand Knox."  
"Oh." Ronald said. "Ok."  
"Did that answer your question?"  
"Yeah."  
"Does anyone have anything to say that actually is related to the investigation?" Mr. Spears pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.  
"Yeah actually. We know how he's been getting around. He's going through the system of storm drains that runs under the city. He might even be down there now, not that we'd ever find him. I dunno if that information really helps us right now, but the more you know I guess." Eric shrugged.  
"I don't suppose we can post officers at the entrance of every storm drain, but it does give us a better idea. If anything it'll be helpful in court." Mr. Spears said.  
"Actually, we found something." Grelle said, unrolling a bloodstained cloth from within her pocket. Several symbols were drawn in blood. From her other pocket, Grelle withdrew a severed ear. "This was with it."  
"That's been in your pocket the whole time?" Eric exclaimed.  
"Mhm. Don't worry, I took precautions. No evidence destroyed." Grelle said cheerfully, depositing the ear into Mr. Spears' gloved hand.  
"...Thank you Sutcliffe." Mr. Spears said slowly.  
"No problem darling, glad to be of help."  
"Wait, you two found something, and didn't think to mention it until now? We could have gone back and looked around more if you two weren't so caught up in lyes and lyres."  
"No, I don't think we could of." Grelle said, shaking her head. "It was not a good idea to linger for too long."  
"Yeah? And why not?" Eric asked.  
"Because we saw something moving down there. A person I think." Ronald said. "Couldn't tell who it was, but I sure as hell am not going to take any chances in a storm drain with a creepy figure."  
"How long ago did you see the figure?" Mr. Spears asked.  
"About twenty minutes ago? Maybe a little more?" Ronald offered.  
Mr. Spears nodded, picking up his phone. "I'll have the queensmen look into it. You made the right choice to not engage. They're more equipped to do it than we are."  
"So what do we do now then?" Eric asked.  
"You keep following your gut. It hasn't failed us yet."  
"And what about me?" Ronald asked. "What can I do?"  
"You can go back to researching in books."  
"Oh goody." Ronald sighed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, there you go!! I'm so so sorry it was late, but hey, at least I got it done XD  
> I hope you all enjoyed, and thank you so much for reading. I hope everyone seeing this has a lovely day!!


	19. 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!! Thank you so much for sticking with my sporatic update schedule. I'm balancing 4 fics, a deviantart/art tumblr, a blog, and regular life so I do have a lot on my plate XD 
> 
> Either way, thanks for sticking with me, and I'm happy to present you with a new chapter!!

After depositing Ronald back with an ungodly stack of books, (something he was not pleased about), Eric and Alan made their way through the many twists and turns of the office building.   
"Remind me where we're going again?" Alan asked, following as Eric took the lead.   
"The Undertaker brought me to this gnarly crime museum. Call me crazy, but I wanna take a look in there. Our best bet now is figuring out what kind of person represents death."  
"You said the word gnarly." Alan chuckled. "I've never heard anyone use that word before."  
"I mention taking you to a creepy museum located somewhere in this building, and that's what you think about?" Eric asked, glancing over his shoulder and raising an eyebrow, despite being unable to hide his smile.   
"Just one of the many loveable things about me." Alan said, smiling back. "Now hold on, you never mentioned that this place was in the building. Color me intrigued.   
"Yeah, like I said, the Undertaker dragged me down here." Eric said. "To sort of teach me a lesson I guess? On not giving up? I mean, if I'm being honest, it was helpful." Eric shrugged. "The guy's sort of a creep, but he knows what he's doing, that's for sure."  
"Sounds like someone's become a favorite." Alan said teasingly.   
"Doubtful." Eric laughed. "He wants the best of the best here after all, and was probably making sure that he didn't have to toss me out like a weed. Guess I passed his test, so I'm sticking around for now."  
"Don't even worry about being tossed out. I haven't ever seen him fire someone. The only time people leave is for retirement, save a few exceptions." Alan said. "You're playing for keeps my friend, so try not to worry."  
Eric wasn't going to admit how much the words soothed the worries gnawing at his stomach. "Well that's a relief. Guess I'm always worrying about not being good enough in the back of my head.   
"Oh trust me, you're beyond good enough." Alan said. "I've never seen someone fired, but I have seen people tossed out of Spears' team within a few hours. And you were brought along on the first big case to cross your threshold. You are good enough Eric. You're damn amazing, and I know I've said it a thousand times, but I'll say it a thousand more if it helps you."  
"Thanks Al, you're one in a million." Eric said, internally cursing the fluttery feeling in his stomach.   
"Aw, you gave me a nickname!" Alan said. "How sweet."  
Eric was glad that Alan couldn't see his reddening face. "Haven't I called you that before? Haven't other people called you that?"  
"I dunno, guess I wasn't paying attention those times." Alan said. "But it's nice coming from you."  
Was Alan giving him special attention? Was Eric reading into things too much? Yeah, he most likely was. He was good at doing that.   
"Guess I'll keep calling you it then." Eric said, trying to play off the emotional rush. This had been going on a while now. Should he say something? He'd wait until after the case. Yeah, timing was important. "You gonna give me a nickname?"  
"Hmm, I'll have to think of a good one." Alan commented. "Your name seems to be harder to think of a nickname of."  
"What! It's like, four letters long!"  
"Five actually." Alan corrected. Well shit. He'd just messed up the letters in his own name.  
"I knew that." Eric said, cursing his braincells.   
Alan laughed. "It's ok, you have a lot to think about. How about...Ricky!"  
"God no." Eric laughed.   
"Oh c'mon, I kinda like it." Alan said. "Don't you like it Ricky?"  
"I'm thiiiis close to finding a new partner. I'm sure Ronald would be happy to switch places. And he wouldn't call me Ricky."  
"Aw, come on." Alan laughed. "Also, I bet he would."  
"...You may have a point." Eric sighed. "Fine, you can call me Ricky, but only when it's the two of us. If that gets out, I'm never gonna hear my real name again."  
"How terribly kind of you Ricky." Alan said innocently. "Between the two of us it stays." 

"Yeah, I'm not quite sure what the definition of gnarly is, but this probably fits it." Alan said, looking around at the dimly lit shelves, covered in crime memorabilia.  
"Christ, I'm just surprised I found it." Eric said, shaking his head. "I thought it was gonna be like a desert mirage or something."  
"Maybe it let you find it because you needed it." Alan said mysteriously. "I wouldn't put it past this place."  
"I pictured the Undertaker as a wizard. Oh god." Eric laughed. "What would he even do with magic powers?"  
"Probably the ability to eavesdrop better, so I wouldn't have to walk out and join the conversation!" The Undertaker said, suddenly appearing to Eric's left.   
"Oh Jesus!" Eric yelped, jerking back in surprise. "Um, hello."  
"Hello Mr. Slingby, Mr. Humphries. In need of some motivation?"  
"A-ah, I'm sorry, are we not supposed to be in here? I'm very sorry." Alan said quickly, looking nervous.   
"Oh do relax. I'm not going to lay a curse on you." The Undertaker said, wiggling his fingers and cackling like a witch. "I should bring more guests here. Not enough people who appreciate the artistry. But you do Mr. Slingby."  
"Yeah." Eric said. "It's just as weird as I remember."  
The Undertaker cackled again, patting Eric on the shoulder. "I like this one." He said to Alan. Alan gave Eric a look that said, "I told you so."  
The Undertaker released Eric and looked longingly at the sprawling shelves. "Tokens of my best work are in here. It's moments like these that I remember that I didn't store the objects, I stored the memories."  
"Are you not working any more?" Eric asked, surprised. "Did you retire or something?"  
"Of course not." The Undertaker said, rolling his eyes. "If I was retired I'd be in Tahiti. I just take more of a backseat nowadays."  
"Why?" Eric asked. "I've never seen anyone with your skill, and you clearly miss it."  
"There are rules in this day and age." The Undertaker sighed. "Taxes, and laws, and business establishments. My ways are outdated now. I don't doubt that I could still solve crimes like I used to." the Undertaker cackled. "But no one outside of me would like it."  
Eric nodded awkwardly, looking to Alan for help. He had none to give, looking just as confused and unsettled as Eric.   
"Ah memories." The Undertaker sighed. "Well, I'll be off now, let you take it all in without my memories getting in the way. I truly hope my little memoirs can help you find the answers you seek." The Undertaker patted Eric's shoulder once more, giving Eric time to take note once again of his claw like nails.   
"Thanks." Eric said, staring. The nails looked more daggerlike, longer, and darker. Before he could get a clearer look, the Undertaker retracted his hand. The strange old legend made his way out of the room, footsteps clicking loudly in the musty silence. "Do close the door when you leave. I don't want the motivation seeping out to people who didn't look for it." And with that he was gone.   
The remaining two stood in silence for a moment, before Alan spoke. "I don't think I've ever talked to him that long, let alone be in a room with him this long."  
"Seriously?" Eric asked. "I swear I see him every other day."  
"That's seriously abnormal, but highly interesting." Alan said. "I didn't know he didn't take cases any more."  
"I don't think he goes out much honestly." Eric said. "Probably stays here, like a ghost of the place."  
Alan nodded. "Wonder how old he is. He's clearly been here a while, but I feel like he's older than the building, which would put him...somewhere near eighty."  
"Nah, that can't be right." Eric said, thinking back to the youthful sheen that overtook the Undertaker's face when it was visible. "He...I dunno."  
"Hm?" Alan asked, turning to him. "C'mon, share your secrets." he said playfully.   
Eric shook his head. "I dunno. It had to be a trick of the light...but Grelle said she saw the same thing..."  
"Saw what?" Alan said, turning serious. "You look spooked, like you've seen a ghost. Are you alright? What's wrong?"  
Only then did Eric become aware of the chill that encompassed his body. "When I was talking to him one on one. I asked how old he was, just outta' curiosity you know? He said something about no one knowing, me not being the first to ask or the last, or maybe he said that after..."  
"After what?" Alan probed.  
"This is gonna sound insane." Eric said. "But he lifted up his bangs...and he was young."  
"Come again?"  
"He didn't look much older than me." Eric said. "Early thirties at the latest. I dunno, when he put the bangs back down, he looked like the regular old crackpot." Eric glanced over his shoulder just in case, to make sure the Undertaker wasn't listening in. "But...Alan he's not that old."  
"That's impossible." Alan said. "He's got to be older than thirty. I remember hearing that he designed this building himself, meaning that he's older that it is, which like I said would put him in his eighties."  
"No way." Eric said, shaking his head. "I know how crazy it sounds, but I'm telling you." Eric's mind rushed for more proof. "The way he walks! Al, the way he walks. He's faster than I am. He's weirdly flexible, and he's strong, his grip is so strong. Honestly, I bet he could throw me across the room if he wanted to. He's no fragile old man."  
"Eric, have you slept recently?" Alan asked, looking concerned.  
"C'mon, you've seen the way he moves. It's the voice and the bangs, and the hair, and the weird fashion sense, but it's all an illusion, I'm telling you." Eric said. "Grelle saw it too."  
"Ok." Alan said, nodding, looking more concerned. "Ok, I believe you."  
Eric's eyes fell upon one of the museum displays. "Are these things dated? They are! He said he kept souvenirs from every case he ever solved, which would include his first one. Come on, we gotta check the date."  
"Eric!" Alan yelped as Eric grabbed his arm, pulling him into the shelves. "What are you doing!"   
"There's gotta be proof, I'm telling you there's proof." Eric said, scanning dates and objects. He had a feeling he was on the right path, the items were looking older and older, his surroundings seeming like no one had been there for years.   
"Look, I don't doubt you, but can this wait until we're done with the Demon?" Alan asked.   
"Please Al, you gotta trust me." Eric said desperately.   
"Ok, but only since you used the nickname." Alan sighed. "But can we please stop running? I can't keep up with you."  
"Oh, sorry." Eric said, slowing to a stop. "I got excited, are you ok?"  
"You're like a big mastiff dog." Alan said, chuckling despite his breathlessness. "You're so loyal and lovely, but when you get excited, you forget your strength."  
"Christ I'm sorry!"   
"And you're sweet enough to make sure I'm ok." Alan said. "Good boy."  
"You're a strange one Humphries." Eric said, shaking his head.   
"Really? I hadn't noticed." Alan said, smirking. 

They walked for a long time. Eric wasn't sure how long it had been. He wanted to check his watch, but something caused him to decide not to. He kept his eyes on the shelves, each one appearing older than the last. Alan stuck close to him, seeming less comfortable in his surroundings. Eric's determination shielded him from the majority of the creepiness, but the total effect wasn't lost on him.   
"How big is this place." Alan said nervously.  
"Big." Eric responded.   
"I know." Alan said, missing the joke. "But it shouldn't be able to be this big. I don't think the building has this much space. Christ I don't know." Eric finally noticed how nervous he looked.  
"Hey? You ok?" he asked gently.  
"I try to keep an open mind." Alan said. "But truth be told I guess I don't believe in more supernatural things. Like the Demon can't possibly be a real demon, the Undertaker can't be some sort of ageless being, and a building can't stretch into time and space to hold a museum!" Alan took a shaky breath. "I guess believe was the wrong word. I have a feeling those things are out there, but...I don't want to believe it. I'm not making any sense, I'm sorry."  
"Hey, you're ok." Eric said. "I shouldn't have dragged you along."  
"It's ok, now I'm curious." Alan sighed. "I dunno, I try not to think about these things." he shrugged. "I've had to hear about them ever since I was six. The supernatural, the afterlife, all of that bullshit."  
Eric didn't think he'd ever heard Alan swear with that much conviction before. "Why so young?"  
"When you're going to die early, people try to prepare you. Tell you what could be out there, where you could end up, what could be watching you in the dark and sneaking down to snatch your soul. It terrifies me." Alan said. "The story of the grim reaper scares me the most. One version I heard mentioned the reaper stalking after those who were close to death, getting closer and closer until they died."  
"That's...cheerful." Eric said.  
"I don't want to die. At least, not early." Alan said softly.   
"You're not gonna." Eric said. "You're not allowed to. By the power invested in me, by me, the reaper can go fuck himself."  
Alan laughed. "My hero. Dammit, I'm sorry. I don't know why I'm talking about this now."  
"Trust me, I'm scared too." Eric said. "Back home, we loved our folktales and mythology. So I guess I always believed things could be out there. And I guess I do wanna know for sure."  
"It feels like a sort of Pandora's box thing, you know?" Alan said. "Once you have the knowledge, you can't go back."  
"The man behind the curtain." Eric said, nodding.   
"Bloody hell. Do you think we're dealing with a real demon?" Alan asked suddenly. "This is quite possibly the strangest case I've ever worked on."   
"Maybe, maybe not. Either way we're gonna have to put a stop to whatever he's planning." Eric nodded.   
"You're right, I guess the best we can do is to do our job, evil spirits be damned." Alan said. "I swear I'll be more cheerful once we get out of this place. It sort of weighs on you, you know?"  
"Yeah." Eric said. "I think we're almost there. I have a feeling-" They rounded one last corner, turning to see a dead end. A dark stony wall cut off their process, ending in a small closet like space with a single display mounted on a wall, barely illuminated by an old, flickering lightbulb.   
"Well, here are the answers." Alan said.  
"Pandora's box." Eric said grimly. "Together?"  
"I think that would be best." Alan said.   
Before Eric could think of what he was doing, he took Alan's hand in his. Together they stepped forward, closer and closer until they stepped forward enough to see the rusted, dust covered plaque underneath the foggy display.   
"Rogue Executioner, 1717"  
Eric wiped off the foggy glass to reveal a rusted, metal axe covered in what appeared to be ancient blood spatters.   
"No way." Alan said, drawing back. "No, no. No that can't be right."  
"So that would make him..."  
"Over three centuries old." Alan's voice had taken a manic note, and to Eric's surprise, he started laughing. "It's not right, three centuries, it must be a twisted joke."  
"How is he still alive?" Eric asked.  
"Eric, you can't believe this, can you?" Alan asked. "No one can live to be even close to three hundred. Trees live that long, tortoises live that long, but humans? To live that long he-"  
"Can't be human." Eric said. "This makes sense."  
"No it doesn't!" Alan yelled.   
"He'd be older than three hundred, unless he solved this as an infant."  
"Eric." Alan said, voice higher pitched than normal. "This is insanity. Please tell me you don't believe it."  
Eric didn't answer, moving sideways to a woven tapestry. Below it was a plaque, reading "A thank you from the royal court after ending the reign of the river cannibal, 1719."   
"Alan..." He said slowly. "Look at this."  
The tapestry depicted a hill overlooking a kingdom at night time. Stars speckled the sky, and the castle was lined with gold. But it was what was on the hill that drew Eric's attention.  
A hooded figure with it's back turned to the viewer overlooked the kingdom. Despite the hood, Eric could see long silver hair, blowing out of the hood. The figure had the same braid down the side of it's hair as the Undertaker. In the figure's left hand, it clutched a book. In the other, a long shaft ending in a silver, crescent shaped blade.   
A scythe.  
"Death doesn't age." Eric said quietly. "He says he wants to keep the balance."  
"Oh god." Alan said in a small voice.

"About time you came back for me!" Ronald said, throwing down the book he was reading and jumping out of his chair the second Alan and Eric crossed the threshold. "What's wrong? You two look like you've seen a ghost."  
Alan glanced at Eric, who shook his head slightly. Best to keep these things between them for now.   
"We're fine." Alan finally said, running a hand through his hair. "Just not a fan of the dark." Eric wasn't sure if he was a fan anymore himself.   
"Find anything good?" Eric asked, changing the subject.   
"I dunno, it's all a bunch of crap." Ronald sighed. "I think I'll go into fortune telling. Tarot cards, crystal balls, I'd need a catchy name too."  
"Anything crime related?" Eric asked, shaking his head. Ronald's sunny presence seemed to chase away the dark feeling.   
"Sorta?" Ronald asked. "I mean, nothing concrete, but I have a fun little list of people that could represent death." Ronald said. "Plague doctors, crypt keepers, graveyard workers, morticians, and I dunno, necrophiles?"  
"Say Ron." Eric said. "What would you think if there was a person who lived for over three hundred years."  
"Are we looking for immortality too?!" Ronald yelled. "Oh no. That's gonna be a lot of overtime."  
"No, we're not looking for immortality." Alan said, smiling slightly.   
"Well, if the person in question is still looking young and strong and living his best life, I think that's a pretty sweet deal." Ronald said. "I could drink all I want without murdering my liver.   
Eric sighed. There were two types of people in this office. "Any other brilliant thoughts?"  
"Infinite one night stands!"  
"Ok, see you later." Eric said, rolling his eyes.   
"No wait come on! I was joking! Come on, I'm lonely." Ronald said, giving the pair puppy dog eyes. "Grelle chose Spears over me, again, and everyone else is busy or not fun to be around."   
"The extrovert's curse." Alan said. "Alright, you can come with us."  
"Excellent, good bye books!" Ronald yelled, darting away from the table. "We hardly knew ye!"   
"How much did you read?" Eric asked.   
"Almost three whole books. I know right." Ronald said, pretending to retch. "I haven't read that much since school."  
"Poor thing." Alan said teasingly.   
"Why're you asking me weird questions anyways?" Ronald asked, falling into step with the pair as they walked down the hall. "God, I just imagined immortal Mr. Spears. I've never felt such terror."  
"Don't worry, he looks like death without coffee." Alan said. "He sure as hell isn't immortal."  
"Ew, I can relate to Mr. Spears." Ronald said. "Maybe coffee's the elixir of life. Hey, maybe your 300 year old man stayed alive due to intense caffeine consumption!"  
"I feel like that would do the opposite of keeping you alive for centuries." Eric said.   
"Fair enough." Ronald shrugged. "Ask me more weird questions. I need to revive my brain."  
"Ron, that thing hasn't worked in years." Eric teased.  
"Fuck you." Ronald laughed, kicking him. "I'm the resident super genius. I read three books! Well, I scanned them...but it still applies!"  
"Resident super genius indeed." Alan said.   
"How smart would you be if you lived for three hundred years." Ronald mused. Eric was starting to regret bringing it up. It was clear that Ronald wasn't going to just let it go.  
"I dunno Ron, let's talk about something else." Eric said.   
"You can't ask me something weird and then not talk about it." Ronald said, rolling his eyes. "But fine, last thing I have to say on the matter is that if there was an award for cheating death, that guy would have it. Hell, death would have him represent him as a spokesperson."  
"Well that's stupid-" Eric stopped, sending Ronald crashing into him. "Ronald."  
"What! Ow, my nose!"   
"You're a genius." Eric said. "I could kiss you!"  
Ronald looked around. "Alright, as long as no one's watching."  
"No not literally!" Eric yelled, taking off at a sprint. "I gotta talk to Mr. Spears, I know who the next victim is!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we go! I try to make good cliffhangers, but I dunno if they ever make their marks XD  
> Anyways, I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter. Feedback is always appreciated, but not required. You guys already helped me out a bunch for even reading, so thank you so much!! 
> 
> Hopefully I'll be back before long, and again, thank you for reading!! I hope everyone seeing this has a lovely day!!

**Author's Note:**

> And there’s chapter 1! Sorry if it’s a little dry, I’ve never been good at setting the scene. Stay tuned for more! I hope you enjoyed and any constructive criticism is welcome.
> 
> Stay safe kittens and have a lovely existence! Hopefully I’ll be back soon with an update! <3


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